Summer Sundays

All day we moved, slowly in the heat
To the pond with toes in the mud, dogs paddling
To the house, up the hill, crevices sweating, panting

The AC is artificial, cold
the cicadas add to the hot oppression

Cold shower, makeup, dress, bun high on my head
pile into the car, not noticing the drive
rolling fields, emerald mountains transpiring
humidity in action

Rock pillars, exotic flowers, we enter minutes later
we open the door without a knock, happily and loudly greeting an empty atrium
following the smells:
olive oil, garlic, lemon, tomato sauce, pasta
following the music:
Bach, Vivaldi, Chopin, Miles

Her face wreathed in steam, peering from the stove
exclaiming words of affection, abandoning her artful chemistry
embracing us in her love

He walks in from the depths
demanding kisses, attention, loud and boisterous

All hands on deck
the chatting mingles with music, smells, clattering silverware
A warm breeze from the screened patio
the excitement of moving from hot to cold

Salad, pasta, chicken, lemon
freshness everywhere
the shade and the fans rythmic to the music, the chatter
Her flutelike, birdlike voice, singing always a new tune to an old song
sugaring the mood, loving us.

Clattering dishes, we rise and move on
hot to cold, cleaning
cold to hot, grabbing fresh fruit
hot to cold, cleaning
Hiatus

Cool breeze brings horse smell, cricket sounds
cappuccino wafts from the house
cookies, ice cream, sprinkles, whipped cream
Music, singing, reading, lounging
shoes off, feeling fresh
content
loved