Whose ditch this is I do not know,
This wet grass where wildflowers grow.
I hope no one can see me here
Stopping to capture beauty low.
Thrilled I noticed before it's mowed
This ditch along a country road
Between the highway and the bridge,
Half past noon by the orange grove.
Swallow-tailed kite glides high above,
Powerline perch a pair of dove,
Bees buzz by black-eyed susan's heads,
This ditch of flowers that I love.
To linger long would be so sweet
But ice cream's melting on the seat,
And lunch to make before we eat,
And lunch to make before we eat.
