The Internet On a Sunday Evening

The Internet On a Sunday Evening Fall hollyhocks hug adobe walls; Sun streaks in purple mountain canyons, Stars as bright as chips of sun, Beckon me to my childhood home. Cottonwoods shedding on sidewalks; Winds blowing sands and tumble weeds; Though tall trees are now my lovers, I still long for and remember these. Playing in ravines at sunset; Painting faces and horses on rocks; Singing songs from nickel song sheets; Scuffing oxfords and bright white socks. Your eyes meeting my eyes in our morning pledge; Neath the flag before settling in class. I see on the internet you’re gone now. Oh, this Sunday evening will pass.