The sun rises beyond the corn field

and spreads slowly over the trees

to touch my window with grace

it is a slow-motion dance casting

shadows on the lawn      prancing

between the leaves of my Hawthorn Tree

and turning the ponds    the distant

hills     golden

             in summer the air

is heavy with moisture

and the fragrance of flowers    in winter

the air is light as laughter on my tongue

                          but that

was when the world and I

were young      when grass grew greener

than the backs of frogs    and apples hung

heavy on overladen branches

when rain came     brushing

the lips of flowers with gentle kisses

and storms blew wild and then

retreated      leaving the world

white and filled with wonder

                time moves on

like stars across

a summer sky and you and I

will fade like them     but this

sacred place that graced our days   is

what we leave our children

may they say of us     we loved

it wildly    grandly   purifying this home

this planet earth      let them say

of us    that we    with our every breath

loved it back

from the brink of death      – Susan A. Katz (All rights reserved)

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