last night was sweet, sleeping in the cabin with the wood walls and the smells of a forest filling our lungs. ezra frightened by the fireworks that the last weekend of the summer seems to demand, but finally able to climb into bed with us and relax. we each found our comfort groove for the night, shifting against one another. the lake sleepy below the windows, gentle and dribbling.
and when we awake it's september. and the very whisper of the word makes us more grateful for these summer moments now, now that the calender tells us we will only have a few more outdoor weekends with sun on skin, and grass on toes and the blue of the lake swallowig us whole.
i take my computer and my camera to the weathered picnic table, covered with lichen, in it's own little enclave surrounded with lake. tom slips off the dock and into the lake for his morning swim. and ezra chases chipmunks until he accepts the futility of it and climbs onto the table, sprawled along the boards, leaning his back against my arm. with his eyes on the water.
flowers of some sort grow out of the rocks beside the lake and there is a bee who pauses and sinks into each one.
i will take this morning with me, deep into february. this day has become my angel sister who lived just a few hours on a september morning but keeps her spirit in me forever.
You, my friend, are such a poet. Such a poet.
ReplyDeletethank you....but it almost writes itself here.
DeleteI can feel the refreshing air of September morning on my cheeks...how comfortable to read! Thank you for sharing your precious hours.
ReplyDeleteharicot....thank you for reading.
DeleteSo so beautiful...xoxoxoxoxox
ReplyDelete