Summer’s sun
perches
atop
the highest
spot
in the sky.
Scavenger
spies
its carrion crawl
across the horizon
of the porch.
Zorched
in the heat
the months tumble by, dry
husks.
Empty days
quarantining
against the unseen,
enemy
such is age.
The deliberate
forgetfulness
playing games
with growing shadows
as our days
linger
longer.
We rock here,
spittle
dripping
from our chins,
the curvature
teetering back and forth
between
past
and present,
a see-saw
for us old-timers
set
in our ways
from remembering
why we came out here in the first place.