Remembering Summer, Rebecca DuPont
Remembering Summer

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