Behind the house, the sun falls.
The birds have fallen quiet
and the tree frogs begin their song.
The tree’s silhouette carves the sky,
clear and sharp.
The air, warm all day, begins to cool.
You sip a glass of wine, red and heady,
it’s aroma mixing with lilacs.
It has been a day, nearly too full,
and it is time to let the details wash over you,
Time for a clarity of a different sort.
You breathe the air. Deep in. Slow out.
You feel your heart slow.
A cat jumps on your lap and settles in.
Some things, the important ones,
come only in the stopping.
About this poem
The picture was taken from behind my house.