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Poem

The pungent aroma of apricot, wafts by on the evening breeze,
from somewhere comes the sweet perfume of honeysuckle in bloom.
The stars hang in the summer sky, spreading forth a canopy,
and I am immersed in nostalgic waves of early childhood memories.

I recall a hillside house wherein first awareness was born,
and double French doors that unfurled unto my outside world.
Sunlight beams through French doors, made the kitchen bright and warm,
a cherry place I seem to recall to eat golden flakes of breakfast corn.

My outside world had a fence roundabout, arrayed in honeysuckle vines,
where was used as a slide and more an old inclined cellar door.
On summer nights it would become a planetarium fine,
where mother and I beneath heavens dome watched celestial jewels shine.

She would delineate constellations, like Scorpio and the Great Bear,
and their myths from days of old to brother and I unfold.
Apricot nectar from next door would drift on the warm night air,
then these happy evenings we would end, each with a little thank you prayer.

Other memories also brought to mind, although I know not why,
are of mother and a morning that a bird began to sing.
“Oh look, there is a bluebird”, I can still here soft reply,
then I turned to look outside, but just in time to see it fly.

These earliest childhood memories, and of the house upon a hill,
memories stirred by déjà vu I have tried to share with you.
Déjà vu and warm memories readily called forth still,
by sweet apricot and honeysuckle that in the evening dew distill.


But of these early things I still recall, and those forgotten not,
the most poignant are of mother and the times I spent with her.
Her loving ways and wisdom and the values that she taught,
also through time have remained with me and a successful life helped wrought.

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