"I can go the distance," said Herc.

"I can go the distance," said Herc.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Poem: My Home


One of my absolute favorite things to do when I come home to visit my parents in the summer is sit out on the driveway from sunset to dusk. The peace, warmth, and beauty are my version of nirvana. Tonight I had the urge to describe it, and of course it turned into verse:
My Home
Feel
The warm pavement
cooling off from the day
beneath my legs.
Lean back, and
Stare
at the soft blue sky
streaked with occasional
clouds golden with sunset.
Hear
The put, put, put
of the neighbor's sprinkler.
Listen to a nearby
lawn mower and
A bird chirping in a tree
across the street.
Distant laughter of children.
Smell
The freshly cut grass.
Watch
an airplane fly lazily overhead.
Fat dragonflies
chase each other in the air.
Bark, bark.
The air is warm,
with a nip of cool
breaking through (just barely)
to signify the end of summer.
Someone
on the next street over
is busy,
the metallic whack of a truck bed
echoes through suburbia.
This is my home.
This is my childhood.
My bare feet have
pattered across
pitted pavement,
dodging pebbles,
chasing the ice cream truck.
We played house on this green,
sometimes spotted
lawn and
dreamed on our backs
beneath that leafy tree.
I've said goodbyes
by this garbage can,
greeted new friends
at that door.
I glance at the gutter
and see ghosts of the tin boats
we set afloat
on adventures unknown.
The yard has changed a little
-the fence is gone
and the red posts of our rusty mailbox
are peeling and faded.
I now drive a car
instead of a pink bicycle,
But the place is the same.
The main thing
that changed
is me.
.
--By Lis Stewart