Keeping Watch

The hydrangeas in the near unbearable heat

Sadly wilt, their leaves like dog ears droop,

It seems as if they are prepared to die.

The mop heads and the lace caps could bring tears

To one who sees their shriven lifeless blooms.

But then miraculously towards end of day

A revival one might say, as suddenly

When the sun has dipped behind the stands of trees

Or settled in the stillness of the lake,

All is made new, a resurrection eve,

With vibrant shades of blue and pink and white.

"Don't go into the garden until six",

A phrase that I have often heard before.

It is the quiet hour when Nature rests.

The hawk is on the hunt, the rabbits feed,

The swift and silent deer watch from the woods

But hummingbirds will drink until the dark

Closes the day and guards the soft-winged night.