Grass clippings, the smell-green,
sticky skin and clinging t-shirt,
crepe myrtle snow drifts
across the porch,
ants in army rows
file back and forth from yard to column
searching dryer ground,
an unknown song bird trills,
a hushed mourning dove coos,
purple, pink and yellow flowers
sway to the cicada hot rise and fall,
My tea glass sits empty,
and my toasted, sock feet resting on a stool,
emit steam, a by product of old, silver tennis shoes
and yard work,
an infinitesimal slide in the universal show,
but significant
to me.
Peace. Love, Linda
sticky skin and clinging t-shirt,
crepe myrtle snow drifts
across the porch,
ants in army rows
file back and forth from yard to column
searching dryer ground,
an unknown song bird trills,
a hushed mourning dove coos,
purple, pink and yellow flowers
sway to the cicada hot rise and fall,
My tea glass sits empty,
and my toasted, sock feet resting on a stool,
emit steam, a by product of old, silver tennis shoes
and yard work,
an infinitesimal slide in the universal show,
but significant
to me.
"See what love the father has bestowed upon us that we should be called the children of God."
written from memory. Look it up, if you like.Peace. Love, Linda
3 comments:
I did. 1 John 3:1
Loved your yard work. Ron and I feel that maybe we have too much yard. You and Darren have a great week. love mary
You are ever the poet, Aunt Linda. i agree with Martha - I think I smell your feet! :-)
Smelly feet are better than smelling like a goat which is what I do when doing my yard work.
Ruthie
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