By Chris Ribaudo
There is a season for everything,
even here, where lawns are trimmed to
perfection, where mailboxes lean slightly
in the wind, and the rhythm of sprinklers
keeps time with the ticking of clocks.
Today, the cul-de-sac hums with life,
porch lights glow in the fading dusk,
and laughter spills over backyard fences.
Children race down the sidewalks,
their joy unbroken by thoughts of tomorrow.
This is a time to rejoice,
to hold the moment like a firefly
cupped in your hands,
its fragile light glowing briefly
before the dark swells around it.
Storms are ahead—we feel them,
just beyond the horizon,
clouds gathering over the rooftops,
the wind whispering warnings through the eaves.
There will be trials to weather
but not now.
Today, we celebrate
laying branches down
Raising glasses up in cheer,
toasting the promise of the future,
even as it waits, shadowed and
uncertain.
Chris Ribaudo is a poet and creative writer based in Carol Stream, Illinois. He finds inspiration in a wide range of places and experiences and enjoys the art of scribbling thoughts into verse.
Top photo by Michael Johnson
