Summer
dropping moment by moment to the base
of the hourglass. This last summer
both of my children en residence.
Joys of summers now buried.
Little hands dig moats to
protect sandcastles we built.
Friends and foes strut and snub
on the shore in front of Jack's.
Cookouts around the firepit
hotdogs crunchy from sandy fingers.
Marshmallows black
drop in the sand, but there's always another.
Brown and soft and melting sweet.
Sands below sing of youth
“There’s a new kid in town...”
Boz Scaggs
Fleetwood Mac, Boston and Foreigner.
Drive music for crossing the valley to the beach.
No books, only sand and surf
Summer without obligation.
Deeper still the sands remember
a white '59 Cadillac convertible, big fins shooting jets of flame
Red interior with those cool electric windows.
My daddy at the wheel,
My mama with a headscarf ala Doris Day
She sings "Fly Me to the Moon"
Three sisters giggle in the backseat
No seatbelts hold us down
We are the Coppertone girls.
© 2005 by Carolyn Burns Bass
No comments:
Post a Comment