My friend and classmate, Jean Rowling Monroe posted this poem on Facebook. I don’t think she’d mind if I shared it with you. She says she wrote it while sitting in a lawn chair in her backyard. I don’t see a title for it. Let’s just call it “Last Days of September” until she gives it a title herself.
Last day of September
Sitting in the warm sun – “soaking up rays”
Feeling the gentle breeze blow through my hair
And kiss my cheeks – before hurrying on to blow leaves across the grass.
Watching sunflowers swaying in the garden
Bending their heads toward the ground
And Puffy white clouds
Floating across a light blue sky.
Listening to the rustling of leaves –
The crows calling back and forth to each other
A mama cow blatting in the barnyard
For her baby.
Watching loved ones coming and going
Husband, son, great-grandson, daughter-in-law.
The bees busy – traveling from one orange and yellow marigold to another –
A tiny butterfly flitting past.
A stack of dirty dishes are calling from inside – but they can wait.
The last “rays” of September are holding me hostage.
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