I dust off a lawn chair, step out
into air that's fresh. I stretch my legs,
relax, my denim capris drawing warmth
from 3 o'clock sun. I wiggle my toes,
count 20 minutes of sunshine
When in past years I scrambled
to get numbers together—in time
to give to Caesar what is Caesar's,
but days ago I balanced the scales.
Today I breathe in springtime,
delight in red-petaled tulips,
a purple hyacinth,
the excited chattering of birds.
A lively breeze stirs grass,
leaves; awakens blossoms
on flowering crab trees,
bringing whiffs in the offing.
Swirling, it brushes my face,
tousles my hair—ah,
I take five minutes more—
to give God what is God's.
This poem first appeared in St. Anthony's Messenger (April, 2012).
Used here with the author’s permission.