evenings on a summer porch
piles of pennies in the car
piles of books by my bed
piles of mail on the counter
piles of plans in my mind
piles of leaves on the grass
What’s it like to be so bright, so vivid,
so beautiful in the morning sun?
No runway model could ever compete
with your intricate brilliance.
A friend with a garden, is a very good friend to have.
steamy oatmeal with brown sugar
the sound of crunching leaves
warm blankets on the bed
coffee with pumpkin scones
crisp morning breezes
frost on the grass
Sometimes I lay in the loft and hear the water hit the docks.
The boats sway and their bumpers whine.
Ducks call out with protesting quacks and geese
continue their conversation in mid-flight.
I’ll miss you when we leave, dear river;
but will keep your sounds buried deep in my peaceful heart.
Listening to an important financial discussion,
hoping to understand and process the information–
my thoughts kept returning to the zinnias
in my mother’s late summer garden.