(written when my son was serving overseas)

The sun has set again
and the pale small half-moon of late July
is almost down as well

The days grow imperceptably shorter even as we melt in three digit heat
Asparagus is thick and wooden and shipped in from the North
For rhubarb time has come and gone,
The last Arizona peach shrivels unpicked on the tree.

Childhood over, above my head the babies dodge about
No longer distinguishable from the parent
Sweat beads on my forehead as I perch still foci in my swarm of gnats
Watching the bats fly.

Inside the house, laundry quietly awaits its attentive turn
And tonite’s dishes soak away reheated debris,
So many important things to do
places to go
people to be.

But time itself must wait as I hear your electronic voice
and let the miracle of
telephone connect us
for both our hearts to hear

“I Love You.”.

CC