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Saturday, June 28, 2008


Summer is . . . 

Cupped hands. Inside them you might find a wood frog.

Sting-eeze and band-aids to lessen the itching of mosquito bites.

Pipevine swallowtails in the purple cone flower.

A small boy with a green net and sparkly blue bucket yelling "I got a minnow!"

Polliwogs and crayfish.

Waiting on the patio for the first firefly flash. 

Crashing thunder at 5 am. Downpours.

*         *         * 

I'm still reading my River Styx 76/77 and loving every word of it. Albert Goldbarth's "That Was the Year" is my favorite among many wonderful tributes to food and what it means: love, culture, memory, and trying to understand the world and its inhabitants.

My children are teaching me patience. 


Maggie May said...

my children are teaching me helplessness! ok maybe that's not entirely right. but i am sending my son on a plane with his grandma. and i don't love it.

Martha Silano said...

and my sister is learning what it means to watch a daughter turn 13 and get her ears pierced. To lose her little girl. Ach, sometimes learning is so damn painful. I feel for you.