The Scorched Earth

As I look out at the scorched earth of a Southern summer,

Somnolent bees nuzzling thirsty petals in the lazy breeze,

I wipe the sweat from my brow, grateful for this season of life.

I am in my own summer, youth no longer at my beck and call.

I feel the whispers of fall, the promise of change,

Another chapter waiting to be lovingly written in broad strokes.

Age is a gift, one that I want to unwrap slowly and carefully,

Enjoying each and every precious moment.


6 thoughts on “The Scorched Earth

  1. Beautiful visuals in your writing, Denise. Loved the message on aging, and I learned a new word to boot! Somnolent!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s