August last year I began this blog with a post I had made on another blog from the previous August.
Honoring this place for me, I share a poem I wrote for Daughter, leaping back to August of 2007.
I want to say this is a most satisfying place to be, Color of Sand.
August 10, 2007
A bee enters a trumpet flower.
The morning still and cool.
Crows and Grackles sit on high branches,
ants and roly polies move leaves and twigs.
The end of summer vacation is your birthday,
your last year before high school comes.
Today 13 years ago I stroked your arm in a plastic box,
sang you a lullaby, not on my belly as planned./
Bones & blood now lend you a different air –
thoughtfulness shared, advice given,
help springs and
more time for turning away.
When others talk of difficult kids
we have our vision brightened
by your kind eyes,
deep laugh and passion-filled habits.
No more will the neighbor irrigate chile rows
and water seep under fence into your outdoor kitchen café
where you slapped mud & grapes into rusty plates.
New little hands are due to wait the café table never more to be flooded that way.
Black beetle hobbles over the path past the sand box.
The road slants in a different direction –
sturdy rich and beautiful
with you alongside.
© 2007 Cirrelda C. Snider-Bryan