Sing Like You Think No One’s Listening

It’s been a while.

Summer flares in rebellion to autumn’s swift approach, and children’s days become a little shorter, a little less exciting (except for those who need not be taught).

For a season of death, fall brings such welcome tidings as sunburnt memories ferment like fine champagne.

“For the Lilies”

As I write this you lie sleeping in the room beside me.

A few days from now you’ll be gone once again, and I don’t know what I’ll do.

We always think we have just a little longer, even with the finish line in sight.

And though already you’ve gone, I still linger each time I pass by your door.

I dream as the sun rises because I can choose when to tend,

The furtive plowman digs deep, sowing victory into dead ends.

And as I plan another dozen summers sipping wine with dear friends,

Somewhere, pulsing deep, the heartache still mends.