we need adult pants
to confront our dreams demise
before time waves bye ~
moving to a sunny state
might turn our sadness around
no more lush yard land
useful outbuildings scattered
old farmhouse we love
maybe sad byes to willows ~
then hi to palms and beaches
we felt this was home
an old house where we belonged
not our shared fate though
so to sun state we will drive ~
with frowns to wear in some months
Memories from childhood summers
still tickling my stomach
Through overgrown paths
Red painted farmhouse
where flowers and weeds grew in harmony
It seems as yesterday, but it is long ago
Outbuilding with a heart on the door
Didn't exactly smell as roses
A carefree shed, with photographs
of the royal family on the wall
You don't wipe yourself behind with
the head of the country
With padlocks and cracked beams
that filtered the daylight (and odor)
Silent testimony
the time when life was different
Shoulder to shoulder in the struggle for existence
with teamwork and brotherhood
to achieve a common goal
The feeling of community in all simplicity
Childhood memories
not only smell of venerable dust,
outbuildings or weeds
but brings along
an atmosphere of ancient wisdom
i ran toward the outbuildings
the windmill is still here
fence is decrepit as always
i can smell grandpa Ed in here
people attempt to lure me out with food
Summer in the country with sunshine on my back
I linger near the outbuildings, pretending to be a super sleuth
Like Nancy Drew, I look for clues, about my grandparents’ country ways
My twin sister is missing the grasshoppers, bullfrogs, and butterflies.
She is inside quilting, baking or cooking. Doing all the grandma stuff.
I am more like grandpa except he is mean and I am not.
I walk to a little pond and see some tadpoles, so I race back to the barn.
Grab up an empty jar and head back to the pond.
I spend an hour or two catching frogs and tadpoles, always releasing them
Violets and moss lure me into the woods at the edge of the property
It is cooler and darker here. I begin hunting for mushrooms - morrels.
On the way out of the woods I spy the ripe raspberries. I fill my jar.
Cobbler for supper!
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