'Before I'm Lost'

to time and memory,
I want to return to the rolling hills
and open skies
of the Midwest where I was born:

Life was kinder.  Gentler.
I remember:  the sun timed our days (just
as long as we
were home before it turned full dark).

Neighborhood kids gathered
for a game of baseball:  Dad, the pitcher
who'd celebrate
each time someone hit a home run.

The yearly drive to the
amusement park:  the excitement building
as high as the
coaster peaks on the horizon.

Summer picnics under
the Weeping Willow:  the air scented with
goodness from the
hot dogs and burgers on the grill.

Raking colors falling
from the trees in the woods behind our home:
it didn't seem
fair the neighbor's leaves would join ours.

Shoveling snow:  I was
The Designated One who had to keep
up with the storm.
Snow blower?  Not Dad:  he had me.

And now I'm in Texas:
been here a long time.  When asked where I'm from,
I always say,
Ohio.  Buckeye roots are deep.

(c) 2011, Karla Dorman (5/26)