Morning Poem, July 9, 2019


Think of them now, as you look out onto the grass and sky

All of them.  Millions.  In cars headed into cities, into buildings, into cubicles

This is where all of it has led?

But this summer day, when I breathe it

Speaks of rest and slow flight.  Gliding.

I remember my dripping feet darkening the concrete at the edge of the pool

And feeling immortal and surrounded by wonder in the warmth and light

The jagged lines of light dancing on the blue bottom of the pool

And laughter of the younger children

And the girls lying on long, white towels on the painted benches


Take time to watch the trees now

They move only with the breeze

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