about this passing moment,
if only I could…

A canopy of green leans in to listen;
cicadas smothered in summer’s heat
keep up soft rhythmic clicks;
raucous crows never cease
proclaiming this their domain,
mockingbirds rasp with protest
when not boasting about their charm.

2:00pm, I sit on my rocking chair
front porch with a cup of green jasmine
tea, a square of chocolate and a good
read, like Shipstead’s  “Great Circle”.

Raven makes its circular
flight without a sound

So close, so expansive.