My trumpet vines have opened
Their yellow bright against the leaves and
Wrought iron fence.
I think they’ve been fooled into thinking
It’s their time of arrival.
Seems a lot of things are changing
And a lot of us feel fooled.
I watch the bees sneak in
Their attack for the birdbath water.
The birds twitter among themselves battling
To hoard my birdfeeder
They only know as theirs.
Cardinals, blue jays and finches
All with their distinct chirps carry on
Not concerned about 93 degrees on Monday
And 44 by Wednesday.
But I am, and it throws me off my course.
Ten years ago we bought our home
And the trumpet vines bloomed.
Ten years later we are recharting our life and our course.
Where do we go from here?
Retiring and ten years older.
I just don’t want a false spring or
The bloom of trumpet vines
Leading us down the wrong path.
Settling in with my coffee I try to find the moment
And smile at my menagerie and trumpet vines.
