There is such a pleasant sweetness,
like melting honey and citrus juices,
in the balm of early summer’s midday.

Freshly cut lawns -
fragrant green, green, green -
and to sit on the back porch

in my socks, singlet, and jeans,
just scuffing my shoes
for the season

like countless others before me
in this timeless tradition.
I am alone - yet

none of this feels like
alone -
glimpse the shadows

of the people before me,
doing just this,
feeling just this

exact,
particular,
state of strange bliss.