Before it gets too late,
before my thoughts begin
to fold in on each other,
collapse like wilted greens to where
they’re only fit for serving up in dreams

Before the sun
stops skimming in across the floor,
presenting charming patterns
(and also every piece of fallen hair)
I’ll take this piece of day
and put it here

Robin singing, breeze, now gentle,
through the open door, last sun in the garden
giving its farewell until tomorrow,
summer being kind – bright and not too harsh,
our lives still reaching tendrils
towards their purpose.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 9, 2023