Monday, June 05, 2006

Native State

Thought the landscape could hold me
lure of the west, some hidden independence

but the sky is not the sky I know
there are no 4 pm summer storms
to leave steam on the streets

I miss red cardinals and blue jays
maples and magnolias
the saucer magnolia
pink petals shedding

the wait for the first firefly flash
and big black crickets chirping all night

handfuls and handfuls of cherry tomatoes
warmed by a hot day, little suns in my mouth

the nights looking into the darkened woods
from a screened porch
listening to the creek
wondering what was out there


Anonymous said...

cathy, well worth the visit, I have enjoyed my time spent on your page. this poem especially. the photos are beautiful. I'll see you again soon!

Anonymous said...

Cathy, I love the words, "little suns in my mouth."
After reading the last 4 lines I felt as if I was (were?) back on Center Ave. sitting on the porch.