Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Air and Memory



I don’t want to do anything or go anywhere except

Back to a hot blue sky morning in Texas with a yellow

Sun suit strap hanging off one shoulder,

Stirring mud pies with an old spoon

In a backyard that is full of oranges and tangerines

And grapefruit and white and pink oleanders

Pushing thickly against the fence.


I only want to go on a picnic next to a cold river

In the mountains, look at my toes on the pebbles

Through the clear water and swim

With my laughing yellow dog.


Or walk  through the woods,

With another dog, and a child with her hand in mine,

Looking for a certain small white flower that was said to

Grow there, but mostly just squishing along the muddy

Path, smelling the leaves, and quietly feeling so alive.


I can’t get there from here except when I lie on the bed

In the afternoon in a quiet house just at the end of summer,

With a cat curled up on a quilt at the bottom.

And I ride with my eyes shut on an invisible pillow

Of air and memory to the only places I still want to go.

Sharon, Summer 2008


  1. Wonderful imagery...makes me want to go there, too! The picture is adorable! However,
    who would want to be in Texas right now?!?!?!?
    It's hotter than hell!!!!! Even worse than
    Richmond in August.

  2. This is lovely!!!

    I lived in a red and white polka dot sun suit the summer of 1959.

  3. Well, Sharon, now I know you are not only a fine essayist, but a poet as well! I love this poem, and I love that picture. You looked very intent on getting that mudpie just right. :-)

  4. Hi Sharon,
    I have time to read your blog now that I have retired! Me, too, for the second time. My last day was Wednesday. I have time to lie on my bed and imagine life as a child again.