After You

After You
 
Wind in the tall trees
says a storm is on the way.
Maybe tomorrow. For now
you are at the picnic table
listening to a podcast
about Apple, or maybe apples.
The sun is strong even late
in the day but our yard
is green as Eden,
cool and private.
 
Both born in summer,
given to the light,
as they say in some countries,
we know what to do
with sun and shade and apples,
with knowledge and surprise,
with our own good luck
in finding each other here.
“What kind of cake
do you want for your birthday?”
you ask and the trees
answer for me:
First you. First you. First you.
 
Sherry R., Happy Birthday, Tom!