Today, up in the tree, I think: it is deep summer. The foam of bedstraw has subsided. Stretched out below me now is the milkweed meadow.
Nodding pink-white clusters of long-stemmed bells interspersed with Queen Anne’s Lace. The meadow all green and pink and white.
The flowers of spring long gone; and for the milkweed, their split silver boat-hull seedpods still a long way off.
Between them, now, the deep summer meadow. Everything quivering with heat.