One Last Time
One Last Time
One last summer to smell the green,
Water the roses, sit out on the deck drinking coffee.
One last sweeping of lady bug carcasses
And snaking the toilet with its quirky septic.
No more raking leaves, winterizing,
Or emptying the water tank before a freeze.
No more no more.
We are told to hold things lightly
In order to let them go.
We held on too tight
And now it’s time to say good bye.
Good bye kissing tree,
Good bye bass pond,
Good bye blue heron and rope swing.
Good bye good bye memories.
One last time I want to soak it all in.
The bird calls, the low hum of insects,
The open sky and mosaic of sunlight beneath the trees.
A day can’t be 24 hours—why not forever?
Forever golden morning, forever long afternoon.
Forever lavender lingering twilight, forever moonlight.
Forever the magic of the hour which isn’t an hour,
But only lasts a moment.
Last walk to the lake to see the wind ripple the surface.
We jump in one last time
And discover the cold spot where the spring feeds in,
Touch the silty depths with our toes.
Good bye ancient catfish trolling the bottom
Goodbye silly blue gills and the ones that got away
Good bye snapping turtle, good bye snakes sunning in the
mud.
I will miss the shifting clouds, the darting jays,
The butterflies skimming the puddles.
The rise and fall of bumblebees above the breezy wildflowers.
The dust at dusk floating like a Japanese screen
Before drowned by the heavy dew.
I will miss seeing you, seeing everything
One last time.
The sun now level with the tops of the trees
One last blazing sunset at the intersection of
Jesus Village and Skateboard Park
I hear the haunting melody, one last concert
Of the ghost bands and circle dancers.
And as the sun slips below the horizon
The Technicolor buses of yesteryears dim.
The Flying Fish Camp has moved on.
One last train whistle serenades
while the embers of one last campfire smolder
Beneath the last of the stars.
We always knew there would be one last time,
We just didn’t know it would be
Now.
Comments
This is beautiful. These words linger and will haunt me with their vividness. I can feel them burning in my heart like the Bushnell sun burning on my shoulders.
Thank you.