Delicate whipped cream,
the catalpa’s flowers stubbornly gripping strong branches
glowing among oversized leaves.
Flowers of art within,
palettes attracting bees’ background symphony
to nature’s gallery.
Like kindergarten parents reluctantly shooing children to buses,
the gnarled old trees releasing them
to parachute on the summer breeze.
In the grass,
whispering sirens’ music in the new summer air
their beauty seducing us to hold them.
Heeding their calls,
only for their molded cream to melt through our fingers,
reminding us how from strength can come life,
needing such gentle touch.
— Scott Schultz
Rural Routes 