Labor Daze
Aug 27, 2021
a poem about weak ending strong…
My bent neck
rivals sunflowers
at the fence.
Grandchildren
hand me shovels
to bury the week.
Lost journals,
unkempt shelves,
subscriptions lapsed.
The latter life of letters
curls in an aqua surf
to sound the beach.
The summer’s end
teaches toes
to grip the cliff.
Holidays spray blue
until sunset,
then rose the sky.
Our bottled message
floats across age.
Knees need play
to stay young,
gulls sing
on the wing.