Yes, More Poetry. I Can’t Seem to Stop! Hope you enjoy this one.

/ Marcia Meara

 

Deep Pockets

He sits cross-legged
On smooth, gray granite
Outside the tent,
And watches the light
Turn from gold to silver,
Caught in that space between
Daylight and dusk,
When all things seem possible,
And the remarkable,
Ordinary.

To hold his day
Longer, closer,
He goes through his pockets,
And chooses memories
To save forever.
He lays out treasures
Found on the trail,
One by one,
In neat rows upon the rock,
And studies each item with
Solemn consideration,
Weighing the merits
Of this over that.

It takes time to decide
Which to take home,
Which to show his mother,
And which he will line up
Along his shelves,
To be looked at
Again and again,
On dreary, gray days
When the warmth of summer
Is a visitor long departed.
Decisions like these
Aren’t made in a moment,
But rather, by pondering
Carefully, thoughtfully.

Here, a feather
Of startling blue,
Found beneath a jay’s
Untidy nest.
And this? This rumpled,
Transparent length,
Imprinted by the scales
Of the snake it once clothed?
His mother will squeal
In pretend horror,
But will smile and relent.
Yes, he thinks.
I’ll keep this one, too.

One by one,
They come out of his pockets
Like rabbits from a magician’s hat.
Pale, blue stones rubbed smooth in the creek.
A snail shell whirled in cream and tan,
Thin as tissue, yet still intact.
A triangular piece of glittery flint,
Sharp and pointed along one side,
Like an arrowhead left unfinished.
Yes, to all of these!
They are mine now,
Part of my summer.

Pockets turned out
To the bottom, he finds —
Half a stick of linty gum,
A rusty key, stuck
In a broken lock.
A pencil stub,
A whistle that doesn’t blow,
And a few unidentified crumbs.
No, and no, and no.

He’s made his choices,
And tucked them away,
In an old plastic box, under his cot.
Maybe he’ll look at them
Long years from now,
Conjuring up these weeks
Spent camping with his dad,
When every day was an adventure,
Captured in the blue of a feather,
Caught in the curve of a shell,
Or a piece of glittery flint.
He’ll think about these
Endless summers, and remember
How simple it all seemed,
When he was a boy
Of ten.

30 thoughts on “Yes, More Poetry. I Can’t Seem to Stop! Hope you enjoy this one.”

    • Glad you enjoyed this one, William. Not to worry, though. There will be more. I’m in the mood, and since I have an entire book of my poems “out there,” I may as well share a few here on my blog. Hope you’ll find a few you like, and thanks so much for taking the time to comment on this one.

      Have a super rest of the day!

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    • Thanks so much, Bill. I haven’t written any new poems since I published Summer Magic, but I’m thinking I just might be in the mood to get back to them. I’ve always enjoyed writing them, so why not? 😁

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    • Awww, I didn’t mean to make you tear up, Darlene, but if it reminded you of your grandson, I can understand completely. I’m so glad it touched your heart, and I really appreciate your taking the time to let me know. I’ll likely share a few more from
      “Summer Magic” over the next week or so. I’m just in the mood, I guess. 😊❤️

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    • I’m so glad it touched your heart, Nancy. And I remember the days when my kids and grandkids would come home with pockets filled, too. All sorts of stuff they’d line up on their windowsills. (Or pile on the floor in some cases! 😁)Thanks so much for stopping by and for letting me know you enjoyed this one. 😊❤️

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    • Happy to hear that. I’m planning to get back in the habit of sharing more poetry on TWS, so I hope you’ll check in often. Thanks for stopping by today and taking a moment to let me know you enjoyed this one. Have a super day!

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  10. For so many reasons it has been a long, long while since I have tuned into your blog, Marcia. And I loved your poem. It reminded me of long ago prairie summers at the lake when days were full of adventures there for the taking. Thank you for resurrecting those times.

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    • Well welcome back, BP! Good to see you again, and so glad you enjoyed today’s poem. Glad it reminded you of those happy, adventure-filled days of yore! And thanks for taking a moment to say hello. Have a super day ahead! 😊❤️

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    • There’s nothing quite like them, is there? They find adventure everywhere they go, I think. Glad you enjoyed this one, Jan, and I appreciate your taking the time to let me know. Hope you have a great rest of your day. 😊❤️

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  13. This has touched me more than some of the books I’ve read recently. There’s so much in such few, carefully chosen words. It resonated with my own experience as a child, and it resonated with all the little treasures the grandchildren have brought to show me and left in my guardianship. Fortunately, the bits of dead crab in one grandson’s pocket were intercepted by his mother first. ❤ ❤ ❤

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    • Ha! I could do without bits of dead crab, too. Glad his mother intercepted those. But how nice that your grandchildren show you their treasures and trust you to keep them safe! That says a lot, Trish!

      My youngest ones live too far away to share theirs with me, and my oldest one has reached the age where she’s not likely to be gathering as many oddities as she once did. At 19, she’s outgrown a lot of that, though not necessarily ALL of it.

      It could be just me, but it feels like my grandkids are growing up even faster than my kids did! *sigh* But they are becoming even more special with every passing year, so I shouldn’t complain. 😊❤️

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