I am running the Sconset bluff path.
I go past darkened houses,
black out curtains hanging,
past Linda Thomas and Jolene Baer
who are chasing rabbits into the privet hedges.
Their fathers call out to them-
“Careful girls!”-
drinks sloshing, ice tinkling
as I go by invisible,
yet sensed.
A summer later,
I will be gone.
Starched, ironed khakis
in a trunk wait ahead in my room.
The beginning...
Continue reading...