August had baked the soil, ripened the grain Harvest had progressed uninterrupted We laid on our backs Shoulder to shoulder The late-afternoon Sun pinned us to the parched lawn
The grass had stopped growing A fortnight or more ago Pale in leaf, sharp dry stems Prickled the skin if we moved
She was watching the clouds Really studying them As if in all her past summer days She had never before seen clouds Teasing her mind’s eye With suggestions of the familiar Against a celestial sky
She said she saw a puppy I opened my eyes to look But could only see The woman I love
Journey of Words 