Noon whistle
Workers hurry home
For an afternoon meal
Granny’s flowered dishes spread
Filled with garden’s bounty
Everything real
Pop eats a freshly baked roll
I watch his cleft chin as he eats
They look the same;
And after,
Granny lets us have three cookies,
Chocolate chips still warm
No limit, no shame
Screen door slams
Outdoors bound my big sister and I make the rounds
While a thousand cicadas sing
Go for a visit to Papa Smith’s
To Aunt Ruth’s, Aunt Pearl’s
They clap their hands in obvious pleasure
Feed us candy
Harmless gossip
Questionable stories
Next door I hide Miz Eddie’s dessert
(Another experiment)
Under my napkin
While Kathy chats with them,
I listen
Watch the corn grow
Grows in fields of blackest dirt
And if it rains
Don’t get mired in the gumbo
Later Pop grills
We find our evening thrills
Racing after lightning bugs
Pendulum clock chimes deep
Time for bed and good night hugs
We try to sleep
Lying in the dark, through open door
Wafts sounds of Gunsmoke, The Honeymooners,
Granny’s high laughter
Outline of her wide dresser—a porcelain Hand meant to hold rings
Scary thing to keep my eyes on
As I fall asleep and wake to early Mourning doves
Simple time, small town Bolivar
All we are
Still lives within
Forever holds, forever loves.
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