Grace Period

 Hot asphalt, so inviting, and my body accepts,
sitting, then reclining, spine to warm ground,
resting for a time, lids closed to the hot sun.

Children’s laughter carries over on a breeze,
shoe rubber screeches! along the metal slide,
the swings, set in motion, squeak in rhythm.

 Listening, I think this a song of May or June,
trusting my ears, feeling the heat, eyes blinded,
ignoring to my left, a pile of discarded coats.