SUNDAY MORNING

 

Sunday morning

Flannel shorts

Knee socks

Bells ringing

 

In the bright October sun

Dry oak leaves

And stonewalls

Have found a permanent place

 

In my being

Fields of hay

Cut and measured by those walls

Woods beyond

 

Hell with that Sheridan pellet gun

And of course the cave

Now there was an eerie place

A concrete bunker

 

Built into the hillside

Potato storage

And snapping turtles

Heads above the water

 

Larger than softballs

Even hooked one once

When it came ashore

We all scattered

 

Like the seasons

Winter

Toboggans

Beagles snapping for mittens

 

On Sunday morning

With beat Levis

Tony Lamas

Boys

 

Bells ringing in the bright October sun

Did I tell you?

How beautiful

How you shine

 

On this bright Sunday morning