Wednesday, July 10, 2013
We just got back from a wonderful vacation in Midway--fortunately a place that has miraculously 'stayed the same'.
What Stays the Same
What stays the same
Is the tang like sun-warmed apples
that scents the shade.
And the smell of heat
deep inside the afternoon grass.
And the crunch and poof of footfalls
in the yellow dirt.
And the crickets that have always sung.
What stays the same
Is the slashed horizon.
That craggy gash between rock and blue
that carves a jagged imprint
on a heart.
And the way the weather
sweeps in from the west,
how you can see it coming
and smell it coming.
And the echo of its thunder in the canyons.
What stays the same
Is the music of rainbirds,
Of water running in a ditch
And the light at dusk--
yellow and violet and warm--
The way it rests at the end of day
on the very edges of things.
What stays the same
Are the oldest houses on the oldest streets--
That come evening when the cool settles,
Open up like night blooming flowers.
Tiny leaning houses that puff their children
like pollen out onto the lawns
to dust the darkened streets
yellow with laughter.
That breathe parents out onto their porches
to talk in quiet, confidential tones,
and watch the night come on.
But while I was away
All those pastures, all those orchards,
all those fields,
So many of those farms and little brick houses
surrendered
To car lots and strip malls,
To cul-de-sacs of faux chateaus,
To glints of new window glass
creeping up the mountain flanks
like gout.
To so much grasping disregard.
But what stays the same
Hides in the cracks
Where an old canal still runs
Or a line of straggly poplars
marks a forgotten windbreak.
Or the last derelict apple tree
bent with wormy fruit
litters the dust
with winey excess.
I would paint my cheeks with ocher stripes.
I would paint them with my own flayed fingertips.
I would paint them with war paint and rage
but for what stays the same.
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Thanks for a great trip and poem!
ReplyDeleteAgain, so eloquently, you strike a familiar chord. Thank you for always finding the words. Love the memories it conjures.
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