It’s hot outside.
Not hot like Alabama
Or any of the deepsouth
But in the Minnesota
summer sun, the warmth
brings solace on this sleepy afternoon.
I am on the back porch
Under the shade
In the June summer air.
Legs kicked up,
breathing deep, trying to soak
the free moments as they come.
The TV flickers
bunny ears spread wide like
a waiting hug.
The US Open, cheering
sounds of the outdoor fairways
whisper in my ears.
It’s father’s day…
The summer afternoon
Hums along to the growls
and groans of mowers
And passing traffic in the street.
Ethan, my five year old
Is rocking in the chair across from me
it creaks out a mellow protest
as he hums his own tune.
It’s funny the things we learn
When we’re young…
Wisps and flaxen strands
blonde hair blowing
Lips puckered as he
faces the brush bronzed
Three cycle fan…
His humming echoes on and out
As the fan blades carry its dissonant melody
Along the sides of the house.
He is amused and keeps on his
funny little melody that only he knows.
This is summer bliss
The sounds of the tournament
In my ears, with eyes drooping
Soon to drop closed like the curtains
In the rooms upstairs, welcoming the shadows
and the dreams waiting in the wings.
A summer breeze blows
Through the small backyard,
chasing leaves, swirling in circles
down the walkway and up the stairs
Of this deck…
Ethan continues to hum his song
and gets some backup singers
As the fan blows the summer
Dreams along.
I loved the poem…I’m humming it right now.
Dad