THIS MORNING I SAT IN THE COOL MOUNTAIN AIR

Early this cool June  morning 

     I walked outside

carrying my coffee and favorite

           6 1/2 X 4 leather-bound volume

of Wordsworth's poems

The mountain air wafting gently in

      from the Sandia Mountains

five miles east

          was so fresh, so cool, so sweet,

and it flowed into my lungs

                    easily and gently

There seemed to be an all-enveloping

    quiet in the neighborhood

         No loud trash-trucks, 

                         motorcyclists,

 nor speeders were up yet... and the

       city tree-shredders had finally 

                  gone away

A robin, left-over from April, was

     hopping and pecking 

                       around on the 

         front lawn, after a fat worm

Our two resident blue jays were at 

     it again--having a big quarrel

(where else) -- in the very top

            of the tallest pine tree...

A few big white fluffy clouds were

     already billowing up 

over the "Watermelon Mountains,"

          as if anticipating the 

   forecast of 99 degrees today

A little bit of dew, though not much,

         glistened there on the 

                   front lawn

     in the cool...we could use 

             some rain...

Our tomato vines, planted in Earth 

     boxes, three weeks ago, 

        and hidden in the front yard

behind the white fence---

      this rare mountain morning---

      "Are dancing with joy, just 

            to be alive..."

as my dad once described his 

                garden.

Underneath the lip of a tomato box

     if you know where to look---

         in a cool, moist place

     a mama and a baby snail

          happily cling, 

             upside down in their 

      shells, bothering no one...

The sun was just now peaking 

     thru Tijeras Canyon

and warmth was creeping in

        as I sat down at the

old faded white mesh table, 

            in the corner there

by the tomato plants...

I surveyed all these things and

      more

          and marveled, just like

the tomatoes...to be alive

Taking a sip of my now lukewarm

      coffee

I opened the leather-bound 

                               Wordsworth

and read:

     "The world is too much with us,

       Getting and spending, we

             lay waste our powers."

and then---

        "Trailing clouds of glory do

                  we come

           From heaven, which is our

                   home."

It was going to be...a grand day.

*****************

BY MIL

16 JUNE 17