July 27, 2020

State Park


I got my own little state park
in my own little backyard 
full of fallen leaves fallen limbs fallen trees
logs of oaks—maples—pines
my cocoa brown adirondack chair awaits 
under a big canopy of green trees
moving back and forth in the s-wwwwwwwiiiiissssshhhhing wind
after darkness comes on tiptoeing shadows 
I see the moon most nights
silently trekking cross the sky 
fire pit orange red yellow 
if it rains I don’t care
I’ll just keep on sitting there
watching all the leaves fall in the fall
orange red yellow—green too
occasionally I grab a rake but not often
see the squirrels burying food for the winter
somehow remembering where they put it months later
I can’t remember what I did last night
geese in v-formation flying their b-52 bombers south
snowbirds carrying luggage and wearing sun visors 
to their gulf coast condominiums 
I like the snow, the holy quietness of a snowy night
that feeling of peace and tranquility 
the crisp cold that refreshes and recharges the spirit
clearing a space in the snow to put bread on a patch of grass
so the birds who will ride out the winter can find food
then it seems I turn around and the snow has melted- spring has come
old man winter is on the run

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