On hot Southern days
when the air shimmered
and birds ceased to sing,
we'd lounge beneath
the old wisteria tree where
the red clay earth was cool
and compact, our bare legs
stretched out for maximum chill
while we sipped RC Cola
infused with salty peanuts
and waited for “Hey Jude”
to come over the transistor.
Verdant featherly strands encircled us
like a bead curtain in a hippie's house
while we imagined we were as cool as they,
secretly watching the cows and chickens.
Ah, those lazy, hazy days--sweetly rendered.
Some of the imagery reminds me of Sally Mann. Good writing, Charlotte. I like the poem.
yes
Sweet nostalgia.
A calming poem.
Mathew, Sam, Gary, Beate, Erika: Thanks for reading and your comments. ❤️
Sam, what a wonderful compliment! I’m a big fan of a Sally Mann.
the images, so precisely rendered, gather a place, mood, time, a world even.
“Verdant featherly strands encircled us..” Beautiful work as always C!
Nice
Thank you David, Rachna, Verkato. Much appreciated!
I have this love-affair with the Deep South. I think it my wee bit of French blood. This poem is so inviting, subtle and sparse in the best way possible x
Thanks dear Tabby. ❤️
I'm lounging with you, Charlotte.*
Lol. Thanks, Tim.
*
Thanks for reading, A!
cool beans...
*****
Thanks, James!