In our eyes, old friends are always young.
We raise our gaze to the rising moon above the chapel’s spire.
As the days shorten, we reach for the sunlight on the path.
We notice summer blossoms fading to autumn in the flower garden.
Do you see the leaves of spent summer on the path now?
A farm house, solitary and silent, remembered in a painting.
Our hearts sail along a sudden breeze in mid-summer.
We taste and feel the sun as we dine under the July sky.