Simple Things


Simple things really, ordinary, but this evening they are now.  Newly green leaves hang from rain blackened branches. Lilac bushes past their peak continue to cling tenaciously to the final blooms. The shade garden is sparingly strewn with summer’s promise. The splash and splatter of a rain falls more summer than spring. Birds steak, compelled despite the wet to feed their demanding young.

Simple things really a door-framed, vertical slice of now.  The drive displays a litter of twirly-bird seeds.  Hasta leaves shiver under each discarded drip from the roof. Last year’s pine needles lie arrayed in stranded patterns on the walk. A complacent verdant slip of lawn stretches in the evening grey.

Simple things of a moment stolen from now.  It did not follow me home, it is home. Can I keep it?

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