Under An Apricot Sky
by Gay Williford

In an early autumn dusk,
a warm lantern glow
settles over our farm family cookout.
Large clumps of fluffy clouds
outlined by the sun's long rays,
create in the foreground
a colorful apricot canopy
that spreads over all below.
Encased in this rare setting,
where the scent of fresh mown grass lingers,
our farm seems a magical place,
a warm stage of kinship and fun
where relatives are meeting
to visit, eat and reconnect.

Following hamburgers, sweet corn,
plum punch and blueberry cobbler,
we young cousins engage in ball games,
tag and the group favorite–
flashlight hide-and-seek.
As the coral sky hues mellow
and are diffused by darkness,
conversations under the oaks
buzz like cicadas in the twilight,
and excited kid squeals erupt
randomly from dark bushes.

These special, well-loved evenings
imprinted my memory,
making me, as a child of eight,
knowing little of change,
believe them to be events
that would forever be repeated.


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