for Mason
Already she mourns the summer,
the creek riding past, waving,
looking back over its shoulder,
her son with a tentative stick
in sand, uncertain of what to draw,
his pants a bunched elastic.
Already the swings have emptied
of the pushy girls. The dogs drag
their late-day leashes home.
She brought so few raisins,
impractical apples he dropped,
bothered by bees.
Madrones gripping their leaves,
the light on its August slant—
when did the trunks go red?—
and her son has lost a shoe
somewhere in the long afternoon
and he peers for it deep
in the cold-breath blackberries
lining the path he walks
so carefully, looking back
to see if she is watching.
smiles. yes i think she is watching...this has a definite endearing and peaceful quality to it...nicely done...
ReplyDeleteMost likely she is... love the meandering feel of a stroll through the woods.
ReplyDeletelovely snapshots of a late summer's afternoon. quiet now that the pushy girls have all gone home! :)
ReplyDeleteExcellent sense of place, of just being in the moment here, of the summer passing, full of exhausted dogs and lost shoes, experiences that will light the long winter with memories. Lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteLovely - jarred loose some fine memories for me.
ReplyDeletefresh and edifying
I thank you
arron shilling
Amy, I thought this fantastic! I was caught up in this captured moment, filled with its imagery, and wonderfully painted words. Truly enjoyed the read, thank you!
ReplyDeleteWonderful imagery!!
ReplyDeleteHope the boy finds his lost shoe soon!!
Thanks for sharing :)
Beautiful. This is right up there with the best poetry I've been inspired by. Why aren't you a famous millionaire? (Or maybe you are!) I'll come back to it. Loved it Amy - and thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Amie. This poem was based on something Angela said one day in June or July: "The summer's so beautiful that I miss it already."
ReplyDelete