Thoughts on the Swing

The Yard

A hummingbird circled
As I sat on our bench
A dragonfly hovers
Over a rippled reflection
In my mother’s pond

A breeze rustles the trees
And tickles my hair
Papas tire tree swing
Moves back and forth
Gently keeping time.

Not a stone left unnoticed
Not a window frame ignored
As I plant with my pencil
I sketch out what I love
While sitting in the yard.

For Conrad
Love Papa


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