I shooed a June bug
Off my front screen door;
The freighters' fog horns
Roll on The Huron and St. Clair.
The mist rises like incense
From the black tar on Spartan,
Still a warm May drizzle drifts tonight,
Anointing gardens and lawns.
And Beulah, my new magnolia,
Blossomed yellow for me this year.
But Brigid and Ophelia,
Heralded my Spring,
Brought warmth and light,
With a fresh green lease to everything.
The twin granddaughters, Born May 1.
