"That Much I'll Remember"
Today, I’ll fail to write a poem.
I forgot my pencil in a coffee can
mounted on my nightstand; I imagine
it leaning – a broken stem against
the can’s tin brim. I’ll be unable
to remember how easily a snake
slid around the feet of orange
chrysanthemums contemplating
October’s heat. Nor will
I rightly divine the pucker of baseballs
slapping leather gloves, the wisdom
of boys playing catch near an old rail
fence. But the breeze is sweet with apple
scent and bites like golden puppies.
© 2008 S. Thomas Summers
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