The Last Thursday of Summer...
I wrote this yesterday. And now I'm dressed, ready to go in and volunteer a day before the craziness hits. I read this again. And Now, this Now, the brownies are gone, only a crumby skillet and a slight, delicious waft of chocolate upstairs. Stuck in the corners, caught in the house spiders' dusty webs. Now, I drink my coffee with damp hair and watch the dance across my hands grow golden and then fade to a normal brilliance... It's just the transition from gold to flimsy yellow that gets me.
It's my last Wednesday of summer.
Yesterday was my last Tuesday.
Again.
It's my last week to poke around the house,
Making Brownies and
Cherry Chicken Pies and
Freezer Jam
In my pajamas.
The spiders are getting
Very Fat and
The thick August breeze is warm,
But it bites,
Like a cloud of tiny yellow jackets,
Sleepy and afraid.
I'm already planning the Winter Play,
Homecoming Activities,
Banquets, Field-trips,
Graduation.
Again.
Tomorrow is my last Thursday...
And it cascades from there
Into a new Now,
A fresh year.
But now, Now, this Now,
Pajamas comfortably slung low on my hips,
And a blue, flour besmudged T-shirt,
Brownies cooling in the kitchen,
As the shadows of leaves
Dance across my hands
A short waltz with
Sunlight.
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