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
Busted Flip Flops 