24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Well my dear
Is this how you imagined our years
Together upon this porch
Watching our children recklessly search
For fireflies to fill their mason jars
Did you dream the both of us would be beaming this evening
As we hear our lil ones laugh uncontrollably
At the frogs who they believe are serenading them, gleefully
When the storm unexpectedly approaches
Let us together, put them in their raincoats and boots
And unitedly, watch the growth of our little fruits
Children laugh and play
Each donning a brightly colored raincoat
Steam rising from cement
As they stomp and splash
In puddles left over
From the warm summer rain
They ask for jars
To collect fireflies as evening falls
Hansel and Great stayed out all night.
And the next one, and the next.
Their parents scoured the forest for signs
but returned with only a mystery:
How could children vanish into the evening
like phantoms in the fog?
The search parties passed the witch’s house,
her kettle steaming, the broth percolating
beneath the lid. She invited them to dine.
“The peculating of children,” she said,
“a shameful sin indeed.” Hansel’s father:
“Who said my children were stolen?”
“My mistake. I simply assumed.
Three evenings gone and all.”
When they finished, the farmers
thanked the witch for the victuals
spread out beneath the trees to
widen the net in their search.
To no avail.
Her house empty again, the witch
poured the leftovers into jars.
It was a hot muggy evening
I was in my raincoat
Carrying jars
Steam rose up from the grates
My elbow hurt
The jars were heavy
Frogs were everywhere,
Basking in their new sauna
Tomatoes were hiding behind every bush
It was a mystery
I couldn’t blame them
The children had been unusually destructive
I swore I would rescue them all,
Children, Tomatoes and Frogs
I tripped, I broke the jars
Rescue mission aborted
Eat your frogs so that by early evening you can delight in tomatoes, prepping them for winter in jars, the way gramma taught you. Together you sliced them, chasing the diced bits around the cutting boards like small children chase ducklings.
Take your raincoat, and venture into the time after the first summer rain, see how the streets steam and the evening light fills the rising. Don’t hesitate, the rain will come again and you will lose your window.
See your daughter’s dirty elbows and listen closely as she speaks of how the dirt came to coat them. Splash and laugh as you bathe her with warm soapy water before bed.
Eat your frogs so that you don’t feel you have stolen time from work to live. Then, you will be able to rest awhile. Your life will be made by these tiny moments.
The sounds just around the corner was a mystery
The children listened for nights but still couldn’t solve it
They tipped out one evening to see what they could find
And just beside the neighborhood pond was a cute surprise
The sounds were from a family of frogs sitting under a bush
The crooked as they ate as they hid in the cool, just like in a book
The children rushed back home to grab their jars
They each wanted a pet
But when they got back a new mystery stood,
How to get them without getting wet?
See the frogs had gone through this before, and with the children left
They all rushed and jumped on a lily pad, floated to safety glad
jj2017
rushing waters and open fields
i am calling to you
can you hear me?
fiddles plucking out my course
in the distance
i am heading your way
can you hear me in the rushing stream?
over hills and grassy crags
i am coming to you
flying through the wide open spaces
marching straight to your door
high in the mountains
the sheep and shepherd leap
the hear your name blowing in the wind
i am on my way
can you hear me running?
The evening’s mystery began
with peculated public money,
a scarred elbow,
children filling jars
with tomatoes
and frogs.
Of course, steam rose
from the ground,
Hot from the sun
but wet from an afternoon
sprinkle. He buttoned up
his raincoat, lit his pipe,
heading out into the night.
I carried my jars out into the evening, calling my children to get into their
raincoats and come in search of mystery and science. We walked
to the boundary where the town ceased and the floodplains began ssh..
the music changed from car hums to frog song, the last of civilization fell away
no more smells of ground coffee or gardens growing tomatoes and beans,
no more watching politicians, peculating the public purse, .
Just the steam rising creating a wild mist, as we search elbow to elbow, for new life.
-s.j.duncan-
Sun setting in the evening
A raincoat on its hook
Steam rises from a pot in the kitchen.
There are jars of tomatoes within.
The frogs beneath the tomato vines croak,
their chorus in perfect harmony
with the children as they play.
The mystery of Summer.