Sitting in Golden Green
A poem on a warm orchard day.
It’s warm, even for September. The earth is turning and rotating and still, this angle of the sun toasts my skin. Crickets are in the long grass, the last of cicada song humming in the air. We pull into the orchard pie pantry. Crowds mill around for their bottles of cider, a deli sandwich, a dozen frosted donuts. She is watching everything, her small hands holding me tight. The trees are waiting for us. A blanket under their cooling limbs, we eat our picnic and let the baby crawl on our laps. She is busy and bright, an apple growing on a branch. Tables would be nice, we think. We are watching others lounge and drink chilled cocktails on wood chairs. They are not chasing a crawling child -- are lazily sunning their faces. Our two eyes meet in a glance. Looking down at her round face, pleased and flushed with autumn's air; there can be nothing better. We three together sitting in golden green.










A beautiful moment.
this was so lovely 💛