Home for me will gleam where wheat fields
Teem with rippling harvest-gold
Maple-tree umbrellas wielding
Anthems as summers unfold
Home for me will gild thought’s rafter
With laughter of girl and boy
Melodies that ring long after
They have spent sweet childhood joy
Home for me is full of kitchen
Pray no lichen-covered gate
Rusts upon unopened hinges
Where dinner is never late
Home for me is a decanter
Pouring banter, bloom-entwined
Books and brooks and nooks transplanted
To the landscape of the mind
Home for me will be a sunrise
Unveiling familiar hills
Lost at night to the blue gath’ring
Where dusk’s leaning shadow spills
Home for me will be a garden
Etched like twilight’s silhouette
Where the front-yard is a postcard
Echoing with summer-set
© Janet Martin
Right now two little boys (supposedly ‘resting’)are whispering
and giggling in couch-cushion caves they made…
dinner needs to be cleared,
beans
need to be ended, cut, blanched, etc.
weeds need to be weeded,
...but I am suddenly drawn
to a dead-stop, dumb-struck by the stilly song of summer sifting through my
senses epitomizing summer-home melodies!
