Chasing Childhood

The call of a locust
In late summer,
Lazy days of freedom
Begin to pall,
Lay in the drying grass
Scratchy on my legs,
Heat of sun on my back,
Watch butterflies dance
In twos and threes
Over a field
Shot with wildflowers.
Sweet smell of
Indian Paintbrush,
Softness of bristles
Tickle my nose.
The threat of a bee
Lured by the sweetness
Brings a moment of alert
To the easy, floating
Bubble of my being.

Late June Conversation

Black raspberries ready,
for dessert tonight, a cobbler.
At the tip top of the pear tree
Cardinal couple commiserate
on scarcity of bugs, little ones
flown the nest and coming rain.
Fireworks at the lake this weekend
shall we go and take a blanket?
A dance at the concert
in Municipal Park to the music
of a visiting polka band? You
can sport the vest I made, I’ll
wear the red sundress you like.
We’ll dream by the watch fire
of local soldiers who came home
to their families safe and sound.