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Buses then cars clattered on by
Saturday mornings drifted on
the sun wandered slowly
beyond the birds
over the mountain toward spoken our words

Where in the distance I could hear your voice
softly spoken
afar yet near
pinning your hair behind the ear
where our little boy nestled to whisper your name
Mom
he said,
Is summer here now?

I could hear but faintly your answer move on by
Perhaps little one
if not today
it will be soon
gathering up the sun
and circling the moon

Either way
I’ll still love just the same
If only Saturdays stayed all morning
and the future never came