Sunshine Perches

Sunshine Perches

(“You belong to God. He has done this for you so you can tell others how God has called you out of darkness into His great light. 1 Peter 2:9b)

Sunshine perches on 25 fenceposts along the road,
beside the field.
Laughter encircles the pines above the meadow,
below the clouds.
Grapes ripen on the vine on
days like these, blue jays define the sky.
Terriers and poodles, at least a decade old,
cross the double yellow lines to greet old men
who walk early in the afternoon.
Everything happens sooner or later.
Everything is soaked, everything dries on the line.

I thought a neighbor’s dog walked by the corner
of my office window,
but it was a young buck nodding at the apple leaves.
I thought a kitten was sitting in my driveway,
gray as the gravel,
but it was a rabbit scattering into the rhododendrons.

I knew I saw my grandson smile,
and take my finger,
and laugh at papa jokes so heartily the
whole neighborhood shook.
I knew he knew
what I know today:
There are surprise while we wait for

Everything to happen.

Barely a week into life, and he knows my name.
That is what I tell people when I pick up a coffee
to take to his mom and dad,
so weary, so beaming, so bright they make the
stars sit up and wonder. Conquered by love,
they cradle him next to the sunshine

That perches on their railing; the deck where stellar jays play.