Monday, April 14, 2008
Summer
The mother did not so much walk
slowly, stopping to admire
a flower
or nothing at all, but rather
made each step
an event. Visits had become
this simple. Enjoying the sun.
Drinking tea. The daughter. The children. Together
quietly. Words returned to their objects.
The breeze in the leaves.
The afternoons getting longer. The lawn.
// posted by George Manka @ 12:15 PM 
