Summer At Home
I used to think heaven was as a sea,
Endless effortless and alone,
But now I see what heaven could be,
A small place I call home.
Out in the back, in a gully, a ditch,
With a rock retaining wall to offset the hills pitch,
I sat on an old rope swing,
Hanging from an old oak tree,
Allowing myself to be,
Just hearing the train in the distance and the cicadas sing.
Just looking at the stars beating out the black night,
Covering the sky in white,
And the moon rising lazily on my right,
As the smell of honeysuckle on air so tight,
You can feel it press,
As you taste summer on each breath.
The fireflies illuminating the red clay earth,
The air around me filled with the sound of nighttime birds,
And peace ever constant stays at your side,
I was never lonely on such a night.
Comments about this poem (Summer At Home by Matthew Moser )
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