RANDOM SUNDAY

Sunday morning
on the back deck
in the land which cotton once ruled

The sun has risen through the trees
casting mozaic shadows on the ground
which change with every errant breeze
carrying the aroma of late summer

Above me looms an ancient oak
likely twice my age
which has grown around a sagging wire fence
where a field edge once marked
the border between slight and steep slope

Just within sight two squirrels fuss
perhaps at me, maybe an unseen fox....who knows?
And a couple of high crows
silently mark their progress
with flitting shadows

The cold sweat of sweet iced tea glass
chills my hand and throat with each sip
in contrast to the warming air
which holds me in its gentle grip

Perhaps this will be the morning
when we'll spy the deer
which leaves its tracks at the driveway's bend
but perhaps not

Tomorrow brings a full eclipse
so those who should know say
with viewing parties planned all around
at venues (bring your cash)

Let others fight the crowds.
I'll watch it here with my own sun
which will never be eclipsed
by something as mundane as the moon

We'll watch the mid day stars appear
as the sun is consumed
making shadows dim
in shared private appreciation