Tuesday, March 22, 2011


There was a day in summer
when I rode my bike
to go passed it

Then I stopped a moment
to let my imagination unwind
to recollect the scent of viburnum
to let my mind wander along the edge
of a neatly placed railroad tie
to see
the spirea bursting bridal white
from the edge of the maturing trees

Trees that used to be a gangly young wood
before being cleared away
to accommodate the building
of a sturdy gray structure with black shutters
amid the chaos of wild grapevine, hickory and locust

I recall the pink and white impatiens
neatly planted each beside the other,
beside the other...
And the red walkway
brick to brick held together with new sand
leading to the front door
which when opened
allows a breeze through the entryway
to the back doors
to a wooden deck
sitting high on hand-built footers
absorbing all the energy of the
golden rays
a skin seering heat when touched
awaiting the protection of the canopy's
with the birds which will come to sup
at the feeders
come evening

And in my mind's eye
there are the screens readied and clean
waiting below each window
for their seasonal turn
and a sweating glass of melting ice
from a quenched thirst
and two folding chairs
and a wrought iron plant stand
freshly painted a light yellow
or maybe off-white..
there is a stream
in all it's meandering
and the odd shape of the side yard

the unwound hose
the wheelbarrow
and spade
the opened doors of the garage
the dogwood
the evergreen
once spindly and hopeful...

Here the thought wanders forward
beyond the bedrock driveway

And back to now
and to the red bike that doesn't belong there
nor it's reminiscent owner

And the memory
folds itself up like an old lover's letter
neatly placed back in it's tucked awayness

The sun
hot and clear
shining on the upturned face
to a new sky

And a mower hums
a dog barks

While I pedal forward again
back from where I came

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