Friday, March 29, 2013

So Quiet

Today's poem is another which preserves a family memory ... more specifically, a memory of a visit to the place where our grandson was starting his life ... and of the good times Grandma and he shared ... and, of course, I was not left out of the activity, either.

I think the poem pretty well tells its own story:


The house was so quiet
this morning when I walked
down the hallway that I
could hear the clock ticking,

thought I heard tired fireflies
grumping softly to themselves
somewhere outside, searching
the grass for a cool place

to spend the day, the cicadas
climbing their leafy green trees,
almost humming to themselves
in their happiness, thought I

heard Thomas breathing peacefully
in his bed, still dreaming about
that dump truck he and Grandma
kept filling and emptying, sand

tickling their bare feet, and I
couldn't help smiling at myself
looking back from the mirror,
ready to clap my hands and dance.
© 2001

(received a third place award in a ByLine competition; now part of Hollyhocks, my second collection of poems, released by Finishing Line Press)

Today's word: grumping

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