If Ever I Leave

I’ll miss clear summer days

And cloud shadows falling

Across distant hills

I’ll miss watching sunsets

Across the tops of mesquite trees

From a gate that says No Trespassing

I’ll miss cold winter days

Brown leaves swirling on a brisk north wind

A sky so blue it hurts my eyes

I’ll miss the spring

Pale green leaves as fragile as my breath

Fields carpeted by wild flowers

I’ll miss cool, still evenings

Distant airplanes reflecting the sun

Counting primroses in thick green grass

I’ll miss climbing sycamores

Chasing whirlwinds on the river bank

And running barefoot down the lane

I’ll miss the scent of blooming whitebrush

Days so alive with birdsong

I feel I’ve landed beneath an orchestra

I’ll miss the river’s shaded banks

Mulberries and flowers in no man’s land

A rope swing on a hot summer day

I’ll miss the oak tree’s glossy leaves

Late-night talks by a full moon’s light

Lying on my back and watching the clouds

I’ll miss burning brush piles on winter nights

Pretending the smoke is dangerous and

Enemies lurk behind every tree

I’ll miss singing in the dark

On the way home from town

And counting stars from the bed of a truck

I’ll miss evening thunderheads

Puffing up like giant popcorn kernels

Painted pastel blue as darkness falls

I’ll miss thunderstorms at night

In spring, when northers come through

And rain-wet hills the next bright day

I’ll miss running down the road

In the evening with dogs nipping at my heels

And cats sharpening their claws on fence posts ...

I’ll miss my world.