Saturday Mornings on Shady Grove,
the Sun runs fast over
the pavement. High-fiving the low
hanging branches
of trees who are just opening
their eyes.
The squirrels and birds
begin their business first,
finding food
and decorating time
with their songs.
The Sun is higher now
and the magnolias glisten
like the sea,
their shiny leaves
rocked by the breeze.
Sporadic traffic begins.
Cars and cycles driven
by men and women
lowering their visors
(those that have them)
to shield their eyes.
The Sun continues its ascent
and there spreads, like cool quilts, on the grass
our blessed namesake:
for these are the groves of shade.
By Herndon | MUSIC 