Another Summer Day

I wonder about a summer day like this—cool and crystal and green.
I want to live in it forever.
I want to sit forever in the cool green shade of the honey locust.

(I can’t imagine eternity.
Can you?)

I’ve grown old,
older than the honey locust,
older than all the trees seen from this cool green shadow.
The trees are strong. They’re not forever.

I remember a cool summer day maybe forty-five years ago.
I sat with my lovely young wife on our front porch.
I said, “Maybe this will last forever.”

It has
and it hasn’t.

This is another summer day.