in the withering heat
to dab on gardenia perfume surreptitiously
only because you feel you are a flower
and hour by hour to read the summer paperback
adventure picked out from the school catalog
to watch the lawn grow until
grandfather mows it down
goodbye to the clover beds then
and the feeling that our yard could
grow to be a field.
how much we loved the summers then
the being at home between school years
and then the fluttering feeling and
the fluttering leaves as though they were
in sympathy at every
first day of school in the brand new plaid.
I want to go back to the past and
learn it all again in fresh notebooks
ruled paper in a colorful binder
dawns as milk
bright as country snow before the bus came
only this time without worrying.
and wear small velvet bows
that clip on in the shade of lime green
and curl my hair again in an old fashioned style
dreaming of nothing feeling that time was an ocean
billowing before us
blue as any sky
when seen from that great distance
and beside the guardian trees.
mary angela douglas 18 may 2017