Gliders

Authors note: This poem speaks to those languorous summer evenings when it's too hot to do anything, and it would be a sin to park yourself inside! In past generations this would be porch time. Our version of porch time is two old Mexican steel gliders with cushions under a vintage pear tree that's perched on the edge of the wall overlooking a long open expanse to the lake. The birds don't like us being there because it interferes with their bird seed consumption. I wanted to express the feeling of the time, the companionship, the comfort, and the contentment of this experience. Hope you enjoy it and leave a comment.



Old green glider chairs, two
Intense shadows like velvet ooze
My soft skirt rides on tan thighs
Old cotton allows my summer sighs

Just a while ago our patch was dry and hot,
Now sprinklers toss diamonds out.
A breeze stirs my sky,
My sky seen through canopy
Of old Bradford Pear.

A wake board rider towed by a boat
Puts on a show for us.
How does he stay on top
Cutting back, forth?

Gliders squeak,
drinks in hand,
Read a page or two,
Agile rider back in view…

Gilded sky and water,
We breathe in this gildedness.
The golden light bathes our dry summer toes.
No profound thoughts,
No heaving breath,
We coexist.
The fullness of this time of day
Has cast its spell on us.