My Santiago

These are the days

It is a dreamy afternoon, Tuesday in May, And autumn has crept upon us. These days, bright marigold yellow, Breathing crisp - ness in mornings early, Dew – encrusted - grass, Tingling fresh on bare soles; Intimations of the day to come, Heady - sun- delicious - life. The day, Stays mild, But there is warmth out in the full sun, Coldness in the shade; And the blue hills in the distance are back - dropped By dinosaur clouds,

Fat in the middle, Thin at each side.

The noise subsides in the hazy afternoon, Brief hiatus before the cold of early evening plunges the world into chilly darkness.

These are the days To live, to love, To go running over the fields,

Feet without shoes, And life without care; To give and to romp through one’s mind, Lost without thought, Immersed in life.