 large enough to hold you, yet built to enfold you. Sweltering heat rising from the bubbling blacktop; popping like popcorn in a vat of oil. Tender feet hopping on one leg to get to the other side. Sweet breezes blowing through the tall pines along the dusty road that leads to home. Tadpoles swimming in the water left from the morning rain; cooling your dusty feet and making them whole again. A cattle guard to skip across, a flattened rock picked up to toss. A rope swing stirring in the noon day sun; waiting for children, waiting for fun. An old collie dog born with no tail, slowly making his way up the trail. A whippoorwill's call in the evening air, daddy coming home; we'll all be there. Suppertime comes around a table of grace nothing fancy, no trim or lace. Heads bent, folded hands, praying for rain from the promised land. Crickets chirp, fire flies fly, kiss good night, feather beds to lie. Another day as the one before; aging wishing for just one more. Kathalise Martin 2/23/2000 Original Do not copy without express permission. |