 |
| Remembering Summer, Rebecca DuPont |
Some
things I see clearly about summer,
where
I sat by the window with Aunt A.
A
Greyhound bus, when you are only eight,
in
hours of two, travels all day.
Expanse
of farm land stretched before me,
much
larger than the park or the Sears Roebuck.
I
climbed a fence, topped by barbed wire that scratched,
and
beyond the bull, a green apple I plucked.
Add salt to
green apples and pucker.
Drink lemonade
to lower August heat.
Walk the pail
from the barn and make ice cream,
vanilla
velvet—eat!
The
morning was for mud-pie cookies
with
bits of corn left baking in the sun.
Late
afternoon I held my nose and ventured
past
the pig pen and back ‘fore supper’s done.
Last
summer I traveled farther and paid more,
while
talking to people I didn’t even know,
and
with just a few relatives I hold dear,
I
dined on something—I can’t recall as clear.
Pam Miller
