no more cloudy days

The sun rises over the yellow house across the street.

Waking to two days in a row of clear sky after our monsoon season has that Eagles song “No More Cloudy Days” running through my head.

Hardly anyone’s out moving around in Emporia, not this early on a Sunday morning so I step out on the porch, my hair uncombed, tangled from sleep. The cat is sprawled on the porch pillar, but she doesn’t greet me – too many interesting things to watch and hear on a still morning.

Down south, a train whistle cuts through town from the west. It’s a deep-throated call, this particular train, less brassy than some.

This morning my thoughts turn to my mom, who is waking up in her world of whippoorwills and owls, white oaks, hickory and sweet gum trees.

Here’s a tiny poem I wrote for my mom eight or nine years ago…

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE

She walks in hills

and trees

and names each plant

as it blooms for her.

Her spirit warms the land

she passes through.

And if you can see such things –

a trail of light is left with each person

drawn into her path.