Chair in the Field

AT half past six in August, two trees,
Yellowing to bronze, bordered our mowed field.
It was toward evening and September, going cold.
A blue chair stood in the grass.

This is what it was.
Wishing I do not know what rush of joy among us,
The boy child in the old summer farmhouse
At noon had us to the meadow with steak and corn,
Cloud mapping the blue as after
We three sprawled on blankets of sun
And almost slept.

He later and we brought back to the house
The table, the milk, the spoons, the lucky idea.
Looking out after sunset I saw it,
The one chair blue there in green grass,
Human and his.

Time was ours and time goes
In shine and hurry as a boy grows.

I was for leaving it there to remember the day by.