Thursday, July 18, 2013

Summer 2013: The Pool

sunblock, green green grass with clumps of dog poop, sizzling hot pavement, the thump of the radio-
don't get it wet-
the camera- don't get it wet-
hats, floaties, pool shoes for Ever, towels, flip flops, more sunblock you missed a spot
the great bald eye of yellow and blue sky
bumble bees in twos and threes
save them from the pool
toys in the filter, laughter, shrieks, splash sigh
a sudden pulsing memory that makes me- almost- cry
i miss my sister, my husband, and the idea of my father
i miss my dead grandmother and grandfather
here the world and its abundant overflowing existence, here the world and its endless gifts
pressing into my face- mouth, eyes, nose, beyond to consciousness- like an enormous gathering
of wildflowers
tucked with bees, ants, traces of soil and rain,
my children cry out in joy and i 
am so comforted by it all, though i am not well enough to feel it:
i remember.
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