Stone Fruit

There is a certain magic

when the little things

and the finer things

overlap.

Pick them with care,

leave no bruises, carry out

your trash and promise

to replant the pits somewhere sunny.

We all stand

under the shade of trees

planted by good samaritans

of days gone by —

we’re here because of love.

Savor those moments,

as the season is short and

there’s no time for

pithy observations.

I hold peace with this

fleeting moment

in the palm of my hand.

One crisp bite

on a perfect day

and I’m grounded again

no matter where I am

or have been.

Embrace the things that change,

don’t wait up

for them to come around

again.

Hello, Sunshine!

I sigh,

From where I lie,

Chin held high,

While my eyes imbibe,

The flowing sky,

And all is right.

It’s an unusually bright,

Afternoon,

Already.

Leaves of grass,

Are weaved,

Underneath,

My back-

My hair and clothing,

Have dandelion seeds,

Clinging to them.

“The garden returns,

The flowers bloom, the weeds rise,

All from the sun’s rays.”

I sit up,

And feel the light,

Caress my face,

Hit my hair,

Warm my shoulders.

“Hello, Sunshine!

I’m glad you’ve stopped by,

Thanks for everything.”