There was a day in summer
when I rode my bike to go passed it
when I stopped a moment
to let my imagination
recollect the scent of viburnum
to walk along the edge
of a placed railroad tie to see
the spirea bursting bridal white
from the edge of the maturing trees
that used to be a gangly teenage forest
before being mostly cleared away
to accomodate the building
of a sturdy grey structure with black shutters
amid the chaos of wild grapevine, hickory and locust ....

I recalled the pink and white impatiens
neatly planted each beside the other,
beside the other...
And the walkway
brick to brick held with new sand
leading to the front door, which opened
allowing a breeze through the entry
to the back doors
to the wooden deck
sitting high on hand built footers
absorbing all the energy of the
golden rays, a skin seering heat when touched
awaiting the protection of the canopy
And the birds who will come to sup
at the feeders come evening

And the screens readied clean
waiting below each window
for their seasonal turn
And a sweating glass of melting ice leftover
from a quenched thirst
And two folding chairs and a wrought iron plant stand
freshly painted a light yellow
or maybe off-white..
And the stream
in all it's meandering
And the shape of the side yard
impossible to trim
And the evergreen
that was everbrown

the unwound hose
the bedrock driveway

And the red bike that didn't belong there
parked by a reminiscient owner

And the memory
folding itself up like an old lover's letter
neatly placed back in it's tucked awayness

And the sun
hot and clear
shining again in a new sky

a mower hum
a dog barking

And me
pedaling forward again
back from where I came