It seems all at once,
the Saturday morning that bustled full
with ferrying kids here then there
has quieted,
yielding to a measure of time more generous than before
granting careful inspection of sinewy oak branches,
casting long, hoary shadows
like beggar's hands outstretched.
And when there is little work,
allowing dreams to linger late
as geese cut silently through
an early autumn mist.
And riverside rambling, hand-in-hand, at noon.
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