Sun Slides Through the Air

 

Wind doesn't come, but
That it shakes forsythia
To litter the ground.

Sun slides through the air
Painting their leaves with new light;
And then it slides back.

Last forsythia
Hangs forlornly on the bush
 Waiting for the breeze.

It is a dog's life:
Interrupted in her nap
She still wags her tail.

Clouds cover my thoughts;
And continue to stay there
When the sun returns.

Popping in the woods--
Explosions of the gun club
Renting the still air.

Green umbrella leaves
Float beneath a sunshine sea 
Pulling down the light.

Footprints in the dirt
Keep me company en route--
Always pose questions.

As the sun goes down
It turns the field into gold
Promising return.