the last of summer days

i lie on the black, stretchy nylon of the trampoline.

the baby bounces uncertainly, falling, climbing back to his feet, and falling.

the nippy air of autumn breathes across my face.

the sudden gust travels through the un-mown grass, 

tickling the blades causing them to twirl and dance.

i watch her,

she shovels mud into her hands,

it oozes through her fingers and she suddenly throws it up into the air.

she jumps into the falling mud clots.

it sticks to her wild and wavy black hair.

her feet hop and splash into the leftover pool of muddy goo.

a hearty laugh bursts through her tiny body.
she licks the mud from her fingers.

the boy finds a toy car.

my legs immediately transform into steep hills and bridges.

his pink lips blow raspberries, the sound of toy car engines.

his head hits the soft sides of my mama body, 

and the tail of my shirt becomes wet with giggling baby saliva.

he lies there for a while
and i feel his soft thump of a heartbeat against my back.
his chest rises and falls, i feel his breathing.

i close my eyes and hear the chirping of crickets, 

the tweeting of birds in the pine tree towering over me.

cars rumble past on the usually quiet road.

the leaves rustle, announcing the arrival of the autumn breeze once more,

just in case i missed it earlier.

she carries the scent of earth, grass, bark, the last summer sweetness of nectar.

the nearby smells of the farm down the road catch a ride on her swift shoulders and my nostrils are filled with the faint aroma of manure and cows and hay.

the friendly argument between the nippy autumn breeze and the warm rays of sunshine find it's way to my back and loose strands of hair.

i smile. i feel warm and cool all at the same time.

the crickets chirp.

the babies let their giggles escape.

the pokey elbows grind into my spine.

the heavy roundness of my offspring tumble over and over me.

and i could lie here forever.