Day 4 from Linda M Crate

our magical selves
shady picnics
beneath the wizened
and wise old maples and oaks,

a blanket of red and white
checked squares laid
out among the blades of grass;
little finger foods perfectly portioned
and preserved to keep the bugs
out—

we sit and tell stories
of old and new,
recalibrating the star dust
of our souls;

as we sing a song of our own—

no threat of work, chores,
or reality to come crashing in;
just us and these blue skies
full of puffy white clouds cheering us
on to be our magical selves.
-linda m. crate