Flowers · Poetry · walking

Sweaty Promises

Blue hydrangeas spill

Lightning bugs wink and beguile

Day exhales quiet dusk

Yesterday, after a fantastically difficult exercise class, I took a long, fast, sweat-soaked walk. To distract myself from stunned muscles threatening mutiny, I admired flower gardens, grinned at a little boy chasing a determined dog, mourned a toppled tree that had given up its own battle. A young woman and I marveled at shellfish shooting spurts of water as the tide went out.

I composed poetry as I went along, promising myself that I’d find my way to my favorite place in my favorite Adirondack chair. While it wasn’t to be last night, it will be soon. I promise.

Cup of coffee in hand, I am going to finish reading Taylor Jenkins Reid’s The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo — in my favorite place in my favorite Adirondack chair. My favorite dog will come outside with me — the yard needs some serious supervision and the red cat might need some barking.

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