Summer Magic

I guess I’ll start off #ExcerptWeek by sharing a poem from my eBook, Summer Magic. I’m in the process of formatting it for print, as a small chapbook, so it seems a good time to give you a taste of what will be within the covers. The first half of the book is called “Mac At Ten,” and features poetry about MacKenzie Cole (the hero from my Wake-Robin Ridge series) as he spent his summers camping on the ridge with his dad. Hope you enjoy this one. (Tomorrow, I’ll share an excerpt from Harbinger.)

Bruises

Pale blue eyes,
Fringed in black,
Look out at the world
With the wild, free spirit
Only a ten-year-old boy
Knows how to nurture.

A shock of black hair falls over his brow
As he frowns thoughtfully,
Examining a scab on one knobby knee.
A souvenir from yesterday’s hike,
Acquired while showing off for Dad.
Again.

Long and thin, his scraped-up legs
Have become maps of small hurts,
Tracing each day of his summer.
A scratch here, from picking
Wild blackberries,
And a bruise there, from
Swinging on a low limb.
Those and so many more,
Injuries acquired while calling,
Watch, Dad, watch!
See what I can do!

Badges.
Attesting to his bravery,
Marking his adventures,
And confirming in his mind
His place among Immortals.

His dad sighs, all too aware
More bumps and scrapes
Lie ahead.
No way to guard him
Against the future bruises
Life will bring.
His boy will be marked,
Abraded by time and
The world around him,
Though some scars will be
Much less obvious than others.
And someday, scabby knees
Will be counted as nothing,
When weighed against
Those invisible wounds.

Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love: http://bit.ly/SummerMagicPoems

Here’s a secret for you…I write poems, in addition to novels. I always have, starting before I was five. In my book, Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love, I have a section devoted to MacKenzie Cole (the lead male character from Wake-Robin Ridge) at the age of ten, when he used to go camping with his father in the mountains every summer. Here’s one of my favorites. Hope some of you like it, too.

Look Dad, he cries,
Look how many!
I see a hundred,
Maybe a thousand!
I see them, too,
Dad says,
And together, they laugh,
Delighted.
Joy shared,
And excitement
Doubled.

Come see the meteors,
Dad said, as he
Shook him awake
Just before dawn.
He crawled from the tent,
Rubbing his eyes,
Then staring in wonder.
With the sky still a midnight black,
And bright stars wheeling overhead,
The fireworks came.
Racing toward Earth,
One after another,
The Perseids.
The miracle of hot August nights.
A late-summer light show
That electrified his soul.
His young heart transfixed
By the sight of the universe,
Lit with streamers
Of flame.

A meteor shower,
Dad tells him again,
But he knows nothing
So beautiful has a name
So ordinary.
Stars, he thinks, pulled loose
From the fabric of the sky,
And flung toward earth,
Trailing silver and gold,
And bringing pieces of Heaven
To those watching below.

He holds up his hands,
Cupped reverently,
To catch one of his own.
To be blessed by
This summer magic.
He holds his breath, waiting
For the illumination
Of his soul to begin.
Falling stars,
Falling from the
Summer sky,
For him.