Poem #39

Early Summer, from Bed

What matters now is

The wars of summer being waged 

Around the neighborhood,

Punctuated by high, thin screams,

Guerrilla troops armed with plastic

Guns and sabers, ducking in and out of bushes,

Answering to the imperious commands issued

By an ever-evolving platoon of leaders.

What matters now is

The barking of that same, damn dog--

You know the one...little, yellow--

Against the background of 

Evening's baroque birdsong,

Accompanying the alto voices of

Mothers who, dinner cooked 

And families fed, trade stories 

In work-wearied tones

While their children run wild.

What matters now is

The pungent smoke from the neighbor's 

Impromptu barbecue pinching my nose;

The gentle hum of my box fan,

Working hard these days;

The glowing azure of 

Twilight drawing close;

The bitter, plummy taste of

Dark chocolate on my tongue;

And the sweet, soft kindness 

of your kiss lingering 

Momentarily, on my lips.

[With thanks to Pat Schneider for the inspiring exercise...]

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #39