Things that never get old

Things that never get old …

Hummingbird sightings in the Rose of Sharon –
she invests her beaks into the trumpeting bloom;
I stand silently, stock-still, hoping she lingers a little longer.

Dragonflies, fat buzzy bumblebees,
and the orange monarch butterfly who pollinates the dusty rose hydrangea.

Nauset Light especially at foggy dawn:
cat feet, silent haunches, looking over harbor and city,
a Cape Cod nod to Uncle Carl.

A Snickers bar for breakfast on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial
with my college roommate.
The view from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial,
Snickers in hand, beside my college roommate.

The first glimpse of the ocean at the top of the bridge on the IOP Connector
in April after a long winter
and a fourteen hour drive down I-77.

A perfectly timed one-liner that no one 
— not even the speaker –
suspected.

Pinky-purpleyellow-orangered fire sunsets
Over water
Peppered with cirrus wisps and cirrostratus brush strokes

Heat lightning

Carrie’s throaty laugh, her head thrown back and eyes wide open
Visceral glee

Skippy stones

A perfectly ripened peach, locally grown

The sound of my father’s smirk as he repeats his mother’s famous line:
We were married in 1942. The first three years were the best.
Then some fool ended The War and sent him home.

The echo of a cork’s pop in the neck of the bottle,
Long legs of a cab as they waltz down the side of the goblet,
a velvet luxurious grapery.

Eau de Used-Bookstore
welcome bells chime against the wooden door and the shopkeep glances up with a smile

Clean sheets

Two words as the conversation ends: Love you!