Practicing Mindfulness

All afternoon long,
our backyard flowers are aflutter
with trespassing
skippers seeking August plunder.

Looking into the house,
a selfie inadvertently snapped––
my face etched in glass
is posted for only me to see.

Practicing mindfulness,
in the here and now, tomatoes
clustered on the vine
worry not; plump Buddhas all.

Distant as the starry
galaxies, October’s deafening
silence is defied by
crickets’ persistent symphony.

Having sipped on
the splendor of an August day,
seemingly unhurried,
a monarch zig zags its way south.

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