BANNER MOUNTAIN GIRL # 41

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Fireflies and Memories

When lightning bugs turn on their blinking lights
that signal sweaty, little hands to try
to catch them on the muggy, summer nights,
my memories slip in to make me cry.

I squeeze my eyelids tight to stop
the moisture forming there.

The fireflies take me back to childhood, free
as hummingbirds that sipped pink four o’clocks,
and apple blossoms from the twisted tree
that Mama planted deep beside the rocks.

As whippoorwills called to each other
and June bugs buzzed by the lilacs,

my mama, dad, and all the children sat
on edge of porch to watch the daylight fade.
We laughed and played. What fun it was to chat,
with voices joining evening serenade,

and splash our feet with cold water
from an old enamel pan!

My tears are falling freely now in spurts.
That last reflection is the one that hurts.

© Copyright, Freeda Baker Nichols

Baker Family (Scan0040)-2

Freeda, Bill, Yvonne, Walter, Sephrona, Dean, Emma Jean, Aaron and Merle

 

Fireflies and Memories

When lightning bugs turn on their blinking lights
that signal sweaty, little hands to try
to catch them on the muggy, summer nights,
my memories slip in to make me cry.DSC_0381-1

I squeeze my eyelids tight
to stop the moisture forming there.

The fireflies take me back to childhood, free
as hummingbirds that sipped pink four o’clocks ,
and apple blossoms from the twisted tree
that Mama planted deep beside the rocks.

As whippoorwills called to each other
and June bugs buzzed by the lilacs,

my mama, dad and all the children sat
on edge of porch to watch the daylight fade.
We laughed and played.  What fun it was to chat,
with voices joining evening serenade,

and splash our feet with cold water
from an old enamel pan!

My tears are falling freely now in spurts.
That last reflections the one that hurts.

DSC_0529-1

© 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

Wrapped in Wonder

I love the night and stars and voice of birds
that through the dark can belt a song which trills
so sharp and clear it seems they sing with words.
The sound comes back to me from blackened hills.

Tree frogs clutched rough bark and they, too,
joined the serenade

of mockingbird that perched on slanted top
of house.  When I came home at night, her song
was smooth and loud and other sounds would stop–
I listened–felt akin to one born free.

A June bug, with string attached to leg,
buzzed from the lilac bush.

So much has changed since carefree teenage years
but still the nature that I love calls out
in baby robin’s squeak, in raindrop tears
and rabbit ice that spews from winter sprout.

The whippoorwills now call from
distant, darkened hills.

These joys will ever be my quilt, I pray,
and blanket me with warmth each icy day.

Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

Called a Sonakit, this form was created by Kitty Yeager, a member of
Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas. It has free verse added between the
stanzas of a Shakespearean sonnet.