January is the yellow month,
All of a sudden the acacia
burst free. Sour grass blooms
high and wild, and bitter green.

This is our gentle time of year.
Grebes sing, dancing their
courting dance across the lake.

It is my favorite time
to photograph,
the optimistic grass
has forgotten the heat.

Just now one could dream –
a really good dream,
filled with plant droppings,
noisy oak leaves beneath your feet,
the dust of dried blossoms
in your lap.
All over town
the acacia is blooming.