Lorna

Days Like This

This is an August day

The skies are gray

Rain half heartedly falls

Not enough to quench the garden

Above the clouds are stalled

And hang about

The grass grows slowly now

The young birds feed themselves

Bird seed does not sink so fast

In hanging feeders

The parental rush is over

I caught a mouse in a humane trap

And let him go

So he is free

And so am I

It’s a restful time to be alive