a familiar dream

it's a sweet cool
rain
on this late summer day.
a soft
coat of grey
with swimming clouds.
the grapes
are in, the apples ripe
and crisp
from the farmer's market.
how nice
to lie here
in the afternoon, with
work behind me,
book in
hand, nowhere to be,
no need to go
out for anything.
this bowl of fruit
will suffice.
these words I read,
these words i write.
i watch
the cloth of violet
blow across
the wonderous sky
between what's left of
leaves
then drift off
into a familiar dream.