Fragments of an Afternoon-Hour 5

I was sitting outside

In my old wooden chair

beneath my Grandfather’s Oak.

My own space of solitude.

I held my hardback on my lap.

It dangled precariously

a creased page

begging for my return.

I sipped on Chardonnay

The day fragrant and misty

The late afternoon silence

comforting, cradling me

A sunflower caught my eye

In nearly full bloom

Dancing in the stream of sunlight

It ducked, waved

It spun a perfect pirouette

I clapped involuntarily in response

The wine glass hitting the pavement

Shattering into a thousand purple fragments

that caught the sunlight,

Glittering, glistening

I let the wine seep into the cracks

Staining the cobblestone

Delighting a stream of ants

 

 

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