Sometimes I am so still in the yard, reading, or looking up from reading or writing to think, that the rabbits feed quietly beside me, inches from my feet in the grass.
To watch a rabbit eat a tiny ripe wild strawberry from the lawn is a quiet joy.
But to watch a rabbit eat the just-bloomed yellow heads of the coreopsis in my flower bed is not so pleasant, and I had to speak to that fellow.
He was just pruning, I know. They will come back.
Meanwhile, pinks and sweet william are open or opening in their pink and pinwheel variations. Red grape spiderwort continues. Daisies are soon to burst. And the orange day lilies are taller than ever, also soon to open.
Sometimes they wait till the actual first day of summer to bloom.
"You must change your life," said Rilke. So that's what I keep doing. I worked as an actor, wrote for an encyclopedia, edited a literary magazine, and taught college English courses. Now I write poetry, blog "eight days a week," and listen to birdsong.