I’ve looked through my posts and do not see if I ever posted this poem. I feel like I did, but I can’t find it. I wrote it one September, possibly late August, and today reminded me of it. Probably five or so years ago, sitting on my front porch watching my friend/like a sister/former patient ‘in waiting”s little boy play, I was in awe of this time of year.
The birds’ cheerful singing with the wind chimes a ringing
Give voice to the breeze as it blows.
Warm air that feels cool, sky as blue as a pool,
Make the day as good as I’ve known.
Little boy Ryan with popsicle lips and butterflies sipping at zinnia tips:
Two special sights to behold.
The greens are much darker and serve as a marker,
With the gathering streaks of gold,
Of the promise that Autumn hovers; and a peacefulness covers
The summer’s long dry breath of air.
Cicadas chip through the still afternoon
And echo my thanks to be there.