santos scribes

sweet long pods
born of small white flowers
sit hidden like jewels
in a summer jungle

the wind has tumbled and tangled them to one another
but it was the rain
that caused them to shoot high
for the sun-bleached fence tops above

a nested mess of allure and wonder;
a study in complexity
they catch my eye, play tricks, stake claim:
this is the way things go, sometimes

connected & unknown
like rows of tiny empty boxes
intent on becoming a puzzle
waiting to be figured out
to be full and sway

but why is it the most delicate piece of the plant
that clings, that catches:
the hexagon of a chicken wire,
the flowered carrot tops nearby-
itself.

curious, i watch
a ruby red ladybug join the fray
spotted black with purpose
she reflects back to me something i’d forgotten

hanging high, above us all
is the faint trace of a half moon
low and arching
through a pool of ever-blue sky

after,
a dancing white butterfly
as beautiful as the flowers
floats free