sara Etgen-Baker Poet Haibun

Notes About The Poem

Dusk in My Bones

The summer of 1961 stays with me in small, steady ways. Bare feet on hot Texas sidewalks, jump-rope songs drifting between houses, mothers calling from screen doors—all of it part of the quiet world I grew up with. The box fan's low hum, the sharp crack of ice trays, the porch light warming the dusk—ordinary things that felt like the neighborhood holding itself together.

Rock ’n’ roll floated out of transistor radios, bicycles waited in the yard as if they knew we’d be back, and fireflies stitched their brief gold through the evening. I didn’t realize then how memory was already gathering these moments, saving them without asking. I only knew the slow stillness of night settling in and something larger than childhood holding me close.
dusk in my bones~
old summers rise like prayer,
soft and unbidden

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Valsa George August 28, 2026 at 9:40 PM A nostalgic return to the childhood days. What close ties we had with our neighbors then. Now life has lost its warmth and everything has turned mechanical. When I think of the past and the friends whom we have left behind, it makes my eyes misty. A poem that has given rise to a surge of memories in me.