Sunday, September 14, 2014

"Indian Summer"


Indian Summer

Barefoot with a cool breeze,
Indian-summer kissed my shoulders
and my pony's rump.  It meant
reclaiming farmers' fields
shorn and stripped of summer's glory.

A golden-green canvas yawned
beneath our slow-rhythm tread,
and unlike spring's bursting frenzy
release was reflective, a weekend's respite
from school uniforms and social status -

where tears couldn't be seen,
voice raised in song, not heard,
and my wish to stay a child, sheltered.

It never lasted long, but sufficed
as the temporary fortification I needed
to persevere.

by Margaret Bednar, September 14, 2014

Middle school and high school were not easy for me.  I was very shy and a slow-bloomer.  Thank goodness I overcame shyness as it is quite a crutch and some who know me know might wish for a quieter me.  :)

This is for "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Sunday Mini-Challenge: September Sky".

12 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

How beautifully you have captured the golden green fields of youth. There is something timeless in a day like this you have described as if part of that girl will always remain.

Björn Rudberg said...

I recall summers as a period where you could stay a child.. and yes I was very late too, I mostly loved the lessons at school, but I hated the breaks, where everyone seemed to understand something I couldn't grasp.. but now I'm hard to stop talking.. sounds like we have walked similar paths.

georgeplaceblog said...

Your first three lines and this "my wish to stay a child, sheltered." Beautiful.

manicddaily said...

A very sweet poem and you do bring that light and freedom of those breaks. The time that it still felt like summer but school was in session had a very magical feel (when one was out!) k.

R.K. Garon said...

Awesome!
ZQ

Grace said...

I love the wistfulness for those sheltered days, a weekend's respite from school activities ~ Lovely indian summer memory ~

Thanks for participating Margaret and wishing you happy week ~

Susie Clevenger said...

What a precious capture of youth...a bit of wistful yearning for the freedom of those days...beautiful piece

Eleonora Usher-Rigby said...

The relatives of my grandparents' generation are all dead now. The ones of my parents' generation are dying little by little. Many of the properties I remember from my youth are gone now. Reading of this idyllic scene is bittersweet for me, but I thank you for writing it.
Thanks for visiting us at http://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com

Anjum Wasim Dar said...

while reading one can feel the intense heat of the season' but also the hint of change and acceptance ...beautiful poem

Marian said...

nice, Margaret. i can picture you.

Sumana Roy said...

"where tears couldn't be seen,
voice raised in song, not heard,
and my wish to stay a child, sheltered" .....love the beauty and innocence sketched here...the soft bud before blooming...

Poet Laundry said...

Lovely and a tinge bittersweet. Those first two stanzas are so beautiful. I feel lazy and drenched in the last of summer reading them. I am glad you had this respite. I'm still shy a bit...though less so. And of course that photo is a dazzling accompaniment.