Here we are wearing old friends comfort.
Tappan Lake plays like a mirror of our lives.
October blaze commands our wanderings.
The gray we wear in our hair
says the music of youth has been played.
We sit beneath a tree unpack apples and cheese
neither of us fishing for conversation.
Simultaneously we escape shoes and socks
wade the heat of August on this October day.
Laughing we scare blue heron to sky.
Later we will write this day each in our own way.
I remember when impulse directed our days.