A Few Lines on a Warm Afternoon

by MW Cook

I am not just lying, stretched out under this tree in the warm afternoon of early autumn.
I am not just listening to the ever-unique chatterings of birds and squirrels who argue and flirt with each other in the branches.
I am not just breathing this air made fragrant with the warm decay of the shifting season.
I am not just watching the leaves as they lose their delicate grip to tumble down and rejoin the dust they sprung from.
I am not just drifting in and out of idle thoughts and half-dreams this sleepy afternoon.


I just am.
And I don’t need a photo
or a sketch
or these words on a page to make it so.

Even so,
I write the words
and slip a leaf into the brim of my hat
as I slip off to my next class.