She sits on a swing
in the garden,
in her pink straw hat
with the wide brim
and the sheer net
that drapes over her shoulders
and waits for evening.
Oak branches intertwine overhead
enclosing her in nature's bower.
The rusted swing squeaks
with each movement.
A small bird plays
in birdbath water
shaking itself,
sending droplets over the edge
onto thick grass below.
The scent of yellow roses
from a nearby trellis floats on the air.
A light breeze touches her,
stirring wisps of hair.
She sails
on thoughts of yesterday.
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