the poet road

A Poet Road Now that it is hot and the sun has turned from a warm friend to a raging enemy, what did I say to make it so burning hot? I`m up early and drive around, stopping and take pictures of growing plants before the rampant sun makes them lose all colors. Then, before I knew it was ten o’clock time to sit indoors watching the miserable news and trivial entrainment programs. The bushfires of terror are something we have to live with until we learn to clear the undergrowth and when needed...brutally weed. I’m thinking of a man who has a small field of the greenest vines, every day he tends lovingly his bushes, you see, we should not be too kind. On the other hand, we cannot poison the land with pesticides to save a plant we like and forgetting that all life has its place.