(C) R.L.K.
It is a Saturday morning and a soft rain
is falling on the grass in your grandparents’ yard.
Your bicycle, leaning against the old shed, will be ready
when the time comes (for surely the rain will stop falling
and there will always be time to ride laughing
through the countless tree-lined streets). For now,
there is the big chair on the porch to sit on,
there are the shapes of the clouds passing by,
and there is that sweet melody you hear
coming from the radio in the kitchen, and you,
and the people you love, are humming along.
