Summertime’s green felt familiar
like paint chips leaving blank puzzle spots on
Or the grassy strands I’d watch sway with the
wind during my summertime blues.
Air carried whispers of honeysuckle and pears. That
simpering temptress, the pear tree
bearing her succulent fruit. Arms spread wide
with her green leaves shaking.
We weren’t allowed to climb her limbs,
to conquer the wild.
We could bruise the fruit.
She had the perfect footholds.
The strongest limbs.
Around her feet were her soldiers
guarding her precious wards.
Yellow jackets buzzed around, sometimes
so thick we’d avoid that part of the yard
walking up the yard to the side street above
where the neighbors’ children played
too little to hang with us big kids.
But when the winged sentinels weren’t out
the temptation grew too much
and we’d try to scamper up unseen.
Inevitably, we’d get yelled at,
my father’s voice roaring out from
the depths of the living room.
Then I’d steal a pear from her
chomping into the sweet, fleshy fruit,
sitting on the porch again.
This poem was written for OctPoWriMo. I was thinking about a few of the challenges and decided to write this. I’m going to link this up for Day 12, even though technically, it’s still the 11th here. Time is a strange concept when you’re in the slowest time zone around. I went rogue and didn’t go with the prompt.
I hope your writing is going well, if you’ve joined us. And feel free to check out yesterday’s post about The Reverie Journal and Project #WriteTube.