Sunday Morning Sunshine

The sun has come out after a showery
Sunday morning
and I have taken my handwork
onto
the deck.

The air smells of wet wood,
soil
and lake
water.

Quiet and still, I hear a gull calling in the distance.

The campers in the campground next door
have not yet emerged
from their tents
and their travel
trailers,
and I savour the moments
of stillness
before their children
re-discover the chill of the water
and dogs
begin the business
of chasing squirrels from the trees.

Across the lake, a lone fisherman
drifts,
and I can hear the faint tick-tick-ticking
of his
reel.

I sit in the hot sun
until I begin to feel the trickle
of sweat
behind my knee
and behind my neck,
under my hair.

Eventually
the quilt becomes
too hot
to hold on my lap.

I put stitching daisies
and feathers
aside
until the cool of the evening
entices
me to return
to it
once
again.