Dispelling concern with a flick of her hand
like shooing away flies
she rocks back and forth,
commenting in a sage voice about how 'the garden
could use some rain just about now.'
We sip glasses of too sweet lemonade.
A cooling breeze carries the scent
of dust kicked up miles away, magnolias,
and the neighbor's fresh mowed lawn.
Lightening splits open the sky,
there’s distant rumbles, a soft sigh,
and the protracted shuffle inside,
for cherry pie, cards, and tooth aching refill.
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