Snoozing in my Chair

After lunch,
After tea,
After reading the same paragraph three times,
Leaning back in the chair,
The book slack on my lap. 

The cats also snooze
In their spots somewhere in the quiet,
Only the droning of a lawn mower
Outside,
Sunlight on the maple tree
That is changing clothes
From green to gold-brown 

A million crickets in my head
That I hear sometimes,
Tho I know
They are always there,
Katydids, maybe,
A chorus that never stops
Except when I sleep.
I think. 

A warm afternoon
In October.
It ought to be cold by this time of year,
My life ought to be winding down,
Looking at winter,
Letting go
Instead of reading Steven Pinker
About the language instinct.

Donald Skiff, October 8, 2007