Florida, My Native Land

by haikuhouse

 My native land

Strikes a colorful chord

Making this heart of mine beat

With joy

With gratefulness

And gladness

The blue heron

He is beautiful

Wearing his patience

Like the ancient elder

Wears his wisdom

The water snake

Curled on the pond bank

Shows off his pattern

Brown, red, and orange

The green cypress towers

Over my back door

It’s branches reaching

Towards the pink myrtle

I walk to the ponds edge

To pick the flowering grasses

I’m bent down low

A cricket vibrates the earth

I see them

Little purple flowers

Like a miniature foxglove

I don’t take them all

They are pressed in a book

To remind me

Of what I can see

When I look closely