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)