By Pat Owen

I would like to be quiet

and listen

for about twenty years.

Just sit on the porch swing

and consider the way leaves

quiver with the breeze.

 

If I got restless I would

walk around the neighborhood

breathing in all the bushes and trees,

observing how the new green

pine cones cluster and dangle

from the high limbs

and how the soft

magnolia blossoms

open to the sun.

 

I want to pay attention

to how time passes

when it’s always now.