On Autumn Mornings

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On autumn mornings
When the air was cool and clear
And the sky was crystal blue
Grandpa and I would explore
the front yard
of the little brick house
where the grass sang
with the breeze
and the sun kissed my face
with freckles.

Dandelions flooded the ground
with ivory
and we whispered silly secrets
to each one
before they sailed through the air
heading for the heavens.


Grasshoppers sprang over our feet
as we dashed after them
hands stretched out
hoping to catch one.

When our hearts were racing
and our breath was quick
we stopped to look
for tiny four leaf
treasures
hiding from my searching eyes.

Grandpa seemed to always know
their secret hideout
and I was special enough
to take home the souvenir.

Sometimes
if the clover granted us the wish we desired
fuzzy, striped bumblebees would rest
long enough for Grandpa to hold
in his palm.
Not once did a look of worry
show on his face
as the insects scrambled around
looking for an escape.

After our legs grew weak
and the sky began to glow
Grandpa and I would sit
on the tan, rocky driveway
waiting
for the low rumbles of an engine
that soon became a fierce roar.

Silver winged bodies
soared over our heads
twinkling in the vast,
orange atmosphere.

I gazed up at the busy horizon
and smiled
under the sun, the trees,
and the sky,
in front of the little brick house,
and next to my best friend-
my Grandpa.





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