Cicadas at Rest
I laid still long enough to see the clouds float by
And feel my baby’s breath– almostly soundlessly– against my neck.
I saw a pair of hawks soaring on a shared invisible current,
Wings spread, gliding in tandem, as if tethered by an unseen kite string.
But they were free and so was I, resting on a lounge chaise
By the side of the Carribian Blue pool in my backyard,
Enjoying the slumbering weight on my chest,
As I watched my husband float, with Chaco-shod feet dangling in cool water.
The clouds moved, I think, for I tracked them between long eye blinks,
Wondering if I felt a breeze on my clothes, still damp from a swim.
After a run, in sweltering heat, when you feel alive as warmed icewater
Trickles down your chin, onto your glimmering chest,
A fully clothed jump in the pool seems like a priceless reward.
Floating on still waters, like the clouds in an early September sky,
Still, peaceful, after a long Summer’s work of thunderstorms,
We have earned our Labor Day rest…along with silent cicadas.
Yet, someone must grill the chicken………and
Loosen leaves from mother trees.
Just not yet…..
Stacy Peterson
September 2, 2013