Saying Grace For Summers Past

The heat that rose through

the black, caked frame of

the barbeque grill so many

summers ago did not care

if it seared the meat of you

and me - it was just happy

to be free.  And if the scent

of us did not travel with it far

it still rose above the eaves,

intermingled with the trees,

and for a brief moment ran

toward the best of all worlds.

FG 6/26/2014