Storybook Scenes

17 Aug

I lie down in the shadow
of a garden pergola,
the cedar porch swing
hanging beneath its frame
supporting me.
Crushed sandstone settles between 
smaller toes
while the pain of blistered feet
wanes following 
a foolish crossing over
sun-baked paver stones.

I rest in the far corner
of the storybook retreat,
its white fence row
standing in strict formation
guarding me.
Half-inch spacing between
tall pickets
allow for an occasional glimpse, 
or discretion against
afternoon happenings
from the neighbor’s bungalow.

I meditate in the treat 
and retreat of modest Abilene,
the pleasingly simple sounds
of a West Texas town
delighting me.
Cheers of children dance between
green mesquite,
while ghostly sounds of a passing train
blow across town,
and cumulous thunder sounds off
not too far from me.