A Sunday Morning Moment in Time

The sounds of cicadas, birds and cries of golfers

All competing to take up space

Not sure which is louder

The cicadas reach a crescendo

Now the birds

Please drown out the golfers

I pray

They can’t see me, I hope

I’d be invisible anyway

I am becoming more so every day

A quiet, unassuming middle-aged woman

in camo leggings, and bedhead

If you would zoom out

I'm just a dot a small dot in the world

Like we all are

This moment is real though

I miss the quiet

There used to be a farm, beyond the tree line

This used to be my childhood home

Now only memories

So many memories

Bittersweet

It is our home now

The ache is deep for my childhood

For my parents

my youth

The area that used to be so quiet

That was then

My parents were taken away too young

So many dreams that never happened for them and us

Memories are

not always idyllic, yet they were

Understood as an adult

but that time was cut short

It proves that the future is only a vision

so why go there

All we have is now, right now

The breeze is cooler on my shoulder

The cicadas sing

They are looking for a mate

too loud

I used to love that sound

I’d run the other way

if I were I female cicada now

I don’t like loud, not anymore

I savor quiet which is harder to find

Peace is too

but I have that with you.

We will get through this together

We always do

every season is only with you

Nothing is guaranteed for anyone

Life never stays the same

we don’t either

We are forever evolving with the universe

and time

As we float on by

Just a memory forever in my heart. Like you are