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.
Who’s walked along your path?
Who’s stepped along your grassy edges?
Who’s pulled an errant leaf from an overhanging limb?
Explain the soft sense of comfort that
blankets my spirit when we walk together–
or say nothing and know that I love you
for your booming silence.