I sit in the afternoon
with mothers and children.
Catherine asleep on a chair
with Michael on her lap.
Jackie playing with a hose
trickling water in a pool.
Meghan splashing waves
against the plastic.
Mary full of summer light.
Peace in the bluest of skies.
Stillness on our hands.
Flowers sharing the hour
and no need to summon a song,
or look faraway
into the curve of a road.
The sky is open,
un-crowded.
The children murmur in play.
We are alive in the honey
of our lives.
The shingles of the house
bask in a white radiance.
I have no desire to be
anywhere else.
Being with mothers
and these children,
in the shade of a tree
having a picnic
of oranges and melon.