In the Yard

I am alone today. I step outside to water porch plants and realize the air breathes autumn. A fresh breeze has lifted the lid on the summer heaviness. The steam has evaporated. The leaves flirt with each other–dancing, teasing. I run inside to grab my camera. I must capture this moment.  It’s what I do lately. Try to fast freeze slices of life. And I find it hard to delete even imperfect images. I need to swing. I head for the backyard. And I’m a child again. I drag my feet in the dirt. Push myself higher over the garden. Feel the stomach rush and imagine I can touch the leaves with my toes. I lean back as far as I dare. Let my hair skim the ground. The garden directly in front of me is overgrown, ripe with buried treasures. The cornfield towers...