An Attempt at Elegy
Poetry is not my forte, but I haven't yet been able to spin this into a story: I spent the day planting flowers, natives such as milkweed to attract pollinators -- bees and Monarchs. The neighbors cut two trees down, I saw the void when I came home. When I came home from planting flowers for butterflies and bees. In a book about beavers, and how critical they are to saving the planet, I read a quote, "when you're down to trying to save the insects, you know you're buggered." It had inspired me to plant the flowers, because trees take so long to grow. I walked in my neighborhood of "well-maintained" lawns. The sidewalks are covered with fluorescent fertilizer pellets to keep the grass an artificial green. Gas-powered mowers growled, motors trimming, manicuring. When Bradbury talks of colors, he describes carnivals and soda fountains, but he can describe the snow, the way it curls upon branches and crunches underfoot, as if it had all the vividness of a ...