cool north wind
wisps gently around the brick corner
welcoming autumn’s first dance into the air
and on cotton-covered skin
the red swing beckons for gliding conversation
amid a back yard of years of soil tilled by hand
now a green landscape which to run and gather memories along the edge of blue grey horizon
this is how I remember the beginning of the season at their house
before their driveway goodbye waves floated solely into the chasms of my memories

i miss my treehouse of 60 yrs ago
That’s great you had your own treehouse! I always wanted one and to build one for Ian. Maybe I’ll stay at one of those treehouse vacation spots one day…