when something rattles inside

a name for the tea i pour in the morning
into a cup i leave on the windowsill
for her spirit to sip on
(today it is the chai kind with MACAW and verna’s honey)

_______
feet bare on hard lookfar soil
and sun on my shoulders asi move slowly through
the whites pinks purples and greens
of the cosmos
whose seeds i gather in a plastic ice cream gallon
and i think about how just when the plant is browning/drying/dying
(a think people might want to turn their heads from)
it sends out seed
more magic than any bloom
________
the whir-buzz-hum-drone
and emerald
of the hummingbird
beelining and diving
around the pollen-full flowers
_______
the white whisps drifting
as i pre-winnow, fistful by fistful,
the just-collected cosmos seed in the slight breeze
_______

when something rattles inside trish says
leaning over in the cowpeas explaining
when they’re ready to harvest
_______

gibbous the gold orange cat
who disappeared for a day and a half
reappears at his feeding perch
with a limp in his hind legs and a crusty scab spot
on his forehead 
moving even more gingerly
than usual

_______
not neon and not molten 
but somewhere in between
(the redpinkorange
of a perfectly round sun
as it hovers just over horizon)