Hot, humid Ohio summer,
1970 something…
a sluggish afternoon
rocking on porch glider, melting just a little
dark cherries staining our hands red
spitting the pits into the yard, seeing how far
they go, hoping, next year our own cherry
tree will sprout
Substitute peach pits or watermelon seeds, and this is a moment from my childhood in Georgia. Deliciously evocative imagery.
Good Day,
This brings images of summer fun, and just as another wrote “peach pits or watermelon seeds,” I could substitute “purple-blue-blackberries” here in Missouri. I laughed at your phrase “1970 something. . . ” followed by “a sluggish afternoon” because I loved those long summers, slugs and all. Even though this is about the sluggish, long summer, there comes looking forward (perhaps a dream of some grander ambition?) with the hope for a new cherry tree next summer. Very nice, indeed. . . .
Everything is too rushed now, so I take this poem as a gentle reminder to slow down.
completely transported me to that time and place with you. Well-drawn!