Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, September 26, 2010

It's Sunday

by Joan McNerney

Your laughter
comes in cascades when
I toss your curly hair
tickling those big ears
with long blades of grass.

We stop at the lake startling
frogs just before they leap
away. Listen to squirrels brush
over carpets of crunchy leaves.

You turn to hold me hold me
hurry it's late. O Michael
pink clouds ribbon heaven and
I want your arms around me forever

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