Oats simmered with raisins and caramelized brown sugar.
A sprinkle of cinnamon freckles a pat of sweet cream butter.
Squirrels chatter at finches stopping by the dogwood.
Air is crisp, too crisp for a September Georgia morning.
Sun rests on fluffy gray clouds.
It’s not quiet.
Rooster’s crow and crows caw, while
Blue jays flutter through autumn tinged limbs.
Beneath the peace, beneath the tranquility,
Sorrowful voices from StoryCorp remember,
Memorialize loved ones of 9-11.
A young boy tells his grandfather that he is
The only grandfather and he is missed. A son
Remembers the sharing of last words: I love you.
Words carried on the hoot of the morning dove,
On the beat of hummingbird wings,
Float tenderly on the golden leaf transported
In the eternal breeze, that caresses a cheek
High in the mountains and mingles with black coffee steam.