by Gay Williford
One Sunday evening
after a brief, sudden shower,
I pull over into a small, flourishing roadside park
just as moonlight emerges from dark clouds.
Raindrops glisten on columbine blossoms,
a symphony of crickets lament the coming night,
and late-to-bed hummingbirds
flitter and dart in this sleepy garden,
oblivious to the wetness.
Nearby gentle lake waves sigh in rhythm,
as do I, relishing the peace here,
the calming presence of nature.
I know I must face reality soon enough
and deal with the never-ending
demands of Monday's work regime,
but lingering here feels cathartic.
Eventually, I gather my car keys
and head home to take on the bustling world.