orange and yellow explosions
nestled in the round green, crawling
the corner of the yard where loquats
ripe and dripping fell onto the ground
created a child’s secret fortress
hide and seeking, the lemon tree reaching
how we sold its juice for matinees
collected soda bottles for change
skateboarding down Franklin hill
tomboy pleasures, imagination games
later passages to sons, where the
community center gym transformed
spaceships with sabers flashing, bedtime
stories shared across generations
‘little old women sitting in the tree,
pushing one leg and pulling the other,
pushing one leg and pulling the other,
pushing one leg, and…’
falling asleep.
Nasturtium memories
“once upon a time there was an old woman
sitting on a chair, pulling one leg and pushing the other”….
________________________________
LikeLike
isn’t childhood a pool of memories and innocence and a sense of adventure? Francesca also has a special kind of connection with nasturtiums… and do you remember the pears of somebody’s yard ,on a beautiful Autumn in Houghton Lake? I remember so vividly my little girl all bundled in pink walking in snow towards the school bus stop, on her way to class (to this day my heart is startled by the feelings I held then, wanting desperately to be with her, to protect her…) we are our memories.Thanks for the voyage. love,Mom
________________________________
LikeLike