Long after I have finished consuming the peas
and munching on the discarded cabbage leaves.
Perhaps even after he has dug the carrots
and stored the potatoes in the old green Coleman cooler
rusty, dented, and covered in duct tape.
I will reflect on golden evenings
when summers warmth gave way to crisp air
filled with scents of must and decay
and honking orchestrals of soutbound cranes.
Discarding the thought to grab a twig or two
on my way to retire next to the wood stove.
Instead, enjoying exactly where I am
for a few moments longer.