Early morning view — a little ritual of each day — to look and see the wonder of the sky first thing.
The sun comes up and washes the butterfly bush in light and they come and drink deeply.
And then, in the middle of the day, they come…having no shame, they come and taunt me with their presence, reminding me of the havoc they wrecked in the gardens through the night. Boldly lapping even the birds’ seed from the feeder. Huffing at my complaint. Think me mean if you will but I cannot love them.