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Saturday Night

In the collected humid light of dusk,

an orange sun slowly sinks

below the hayfield,

and we come to the farmhouse

in the relief that is evening.

Stewed apples loll in their

saccharine syrup bath, smelling

of melted sugar and love. Tender

beef, smothered mashed

potatoes, and fresh green beans

make the rounds at the dinner table.

With dishes washed and left to drip dry,

she studies for Sunday School,

her soft hands turn worn pages.

He contemplates a quiet life

as he rocks in the massive burnt

umber textured rocking chair.

It is Saturday night

completed in darkness

punctuated by slow, steady

snoring, and crickets chirping

into the thick night air.

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1 Comment

Jul 21, 2021

I love the mood of this piece. It reminds me of my grandparents on a quiet summer evening. Well written!

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