You didn’t ask for it, but I would give you A slice of life on this sacred ground So that you, too, can touch pure joy. A midsummer twilight On the front steps, teabag dangling from the chipped mug, cool bricks under your feet. Dragonflies wheeling above, bats in hot pursuit The late sky shifting from indigo to violet to that particular shade of dark dark blue that you only love because it means a multitude of stars. Winter There’s no snow yet (again), but it is cold, cold And your flower-scattered duvet is warm, warm and Covered with purring, stretching, snoring cats. You try to read the last chapter but your eyes are closing. So instead, you reach over and turn off the beautiful bronze lamp nestled next to the giant begonia in the window And surrender to sleep. The great horned owl calls mournfully in the woods. Spring flowers dazzle in the bright sunshine. Green tendrils push through the earth and snake around the fence as you watch. Work in the garden beckons. Homemade fireworks set to bad soundtracks. The children that you love running their dusty hearts out across the grass While their parents drink IPAs and lounge contentedly in the heat I could go on and on and on But I think you know by now that the creek in the backyard where the herons stand sentry Is a wellspring, that the pollen here is tinged with magic as it floats through the air on those golden honey evenings You will be forever grateful that the house beckoned to you More so that you said “yes,” and stepped into your life.
I love❄️⛱️⛈️🌻 this poem