Today is not Saturday, but it’s a hot summer day, very similar to the one described in this poem.
I turned the corner,
cut through the apartment complex.
Practical orange brick buildings
with all the essentials
Look to be in good repair
Scattered, but they didn’t fall far from each other
Maybe twenty feet between them.
I walked down the sidewalk.
Plastic chairs, kids’ toys
Tiny flower gardens some full of life some dried out,
all fighting back the packed-down dirt.
Sun coming down awfully hot
at ten AM
It is June
but it shouldn’t be ninety
but it is.
Last thing I’d expect to see
is a lady sitting in a webbed lawn chair
some great big knitted thing
looking hot and heavy-weight
yellow black and white
But she is.
Good morning, she says to me
and smiles, a big smile.
Looks happy to see me, as if she knows me
and likes me
Her hands stay with her knitting
the colors clean and sharp
Good morning, I say back
Just like that, no more needed.