Poem: A Day in the Sun

backyard

A Day in the Sun

You sit in the sun,
eyes closed,
feeling its heat for the first time this season,
letting it envelop you, sitting
perhaps a bit too long,
long enough for your winter white skin to burn slightly.

There are chimes, two sets, on your back porch.
One low and mysterious, another piccolo high and tinkling.
They are musical, gifts from people who love you.
There is peace in them as they sing in the gentle breeze.

Somewhere, there are children playing.
Laughter. Silliness. Gleeful footsteps.
Somewhere you hear a shovel, slow and steady, most likely
digging away the debris of a season of snowplows,
making way for the grass to grow once again.
Somewhere teenagers are shooting hoops,
the ball bouncing in an erratic rhythm
punctuated with trash talk.
It is distant and you cannot make out the words,
only the tone. It is enough.

You can smell meat grilling,
the fire licking at the juices coaxed from fresh beef.
Your mouth waters.
You smile, suddenly hungry for something raw and primal.

You came to this chair an hour or so ago, late in the afternoon,
after a day of repairs and prayers, fully intending
to read.
But the warmth! Seductive and exotic
after a winter that ran two months too long.
So warm, the last of the snow finally, has melted
and the birds celebrate with song.

You closed your book and closed your eyes,
unwilling to let any sense, detract from the late April heat.
Soon, everything else fades away,
the sounds, the smells, the remnants of conversation.
All of it.
There is only the warmth,
this brief reminder that winter eventually ends.
Prayers are eventually answered.
And love comes to old men like you.

 About this poem

It was warm today.

The picture is of my backyard, taken by my phone.

Tom

2 thoughts on “Poem: A Day in the Sun

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