Under a Shady Tree

This morning, at the farmer's market, I picked some Kirby cucumbers, carrots, and a basket of bright yellow lemons.

With a coffee and an egg sandwich, I parked myself under a shady tree near the trio of buskers covering Clapton's "Lay Down Sally."

...rest hear in my arms... I've been trying all night long just to talk to you...

 An appreciated bite of fluffy, homemade biscuit in my mouth, I silently watched a tiny ant crawling over my shoe and a hawk slowly circling overhead.  The light breeze cooled my neck as the buskers launched into the Stones:

You can't always get what you want... but if you try some time, you just might find, you get what you need....

 Chucking the last bits of biscuit to a little sparrow, I lingered, relishing the perfection of the moment.  I wondered whether my mother's people, when they made the arduous ocean voyage and joined the Plymouth Colony nearly 400 years ago, could have envisioned this morning.  I wondered if my father's father, passing the Statue of Liberty along the Hudson in 1914, could have imagined the gift he was giving me.

I walked home to wait for the dusk, and for the June-bugs that will light the night grass.

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