Saturday, January 21, 2023

Nostalgia

Collage by Margaret Bednar (click to enlarge)

 Nostalgia

Moments were fleeced today as I lingered, mid-summer, 
inhaled Mother's roses, marigolds, daffodils;
hummingbirds and bees flitting between foxgloves and tree.

Felt horses' hooves pound the earth, heads and tails held high,
galloping their way toward pasture gate,
scattering squawking blackbirds, bewildered.

Heard lawnmower grumble, overgrown weeds beheaded
beneath tree-top fort, while chickens purred and pecked 
their way upon the lawn.

Saw billowing linens carefully pinned
framing stately sweep of field bowing low at river's edge;
railroad tracks a musical staff, fading into horizon's haze.

Wild red clover swayed like nymphs cavorting
within hayfield's embrace, plucked; 
sweetly gentle upon my tongue.

Pasted behind closed eyes 
this serenade of summers past resides, 
a bit yellowedonly minutes lost, 
a season of yesteryear gained. 

by Margaret Bednar, January 21, 2023

Playing along with "Shay's Word Garden Word List - William Wordsworth" I used 8 out of 20 words: bewildered, blackbird, fleece, foxglove, hoof, overgrown, stately, and yellow.  Also playing along with "Poets and Storytellers United - Friday Writings #60" AND "Girlie On The Edge's Six Sentence Story - Paste"

 I'm off to a dinner date and will be back Sunday morning to read, visit, and comment.  FYI - I have a bit of trouble at times getting my comments through to some of you who have WordPress. Please know I read almost everyone in these challenges.  

15 comments:

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Your grammar's correct, as you use the 'ing' endings in subordinate or subsidiary clauses (I don't know the right terminology, but I do know how the grammar works).

And what a lovely, joyous piece of nostalgia!

messymimi said...

Beautifully done!

Jim said...

Ahh, memories from those summers past. My most vivid, came right away as I switched the memory mind on, was of me in the straw stack. We were threshing oats and the thresher threw in a stack. Then it needed to be stacked in a neat stack, save space or else and also keep the rain pouring over the sides. My father thought I should learn to stack straw or hay, and this was my day of learning.
I'm sure you don't want another; some could be like yours.
..

Fireblossom said...

This is a lovely depiction of a remembered scene, painted with details that bring it all to vivid life. I especially like the horses scattering the birds. it makes me think of that magnificent animal that you used to have.

Pssst, when you tweak this, you might want to change "Wadsworth" to Wordsworth. (Wadsworth is Longfellow.)

Frank Hubeny said...

I like the thought of having chickens in the yard to add to the flowers.

phillip woodruff (jalopy dreams) said...

looks, smells, sounds, and feels like summer. a wonderful memorie, well done

qbit said...

Well done, nice echo of Wordsworth throughout. Beautifully painted scene.

Su-sieee! Mac said...

Sweet images of summer. I remember laundry waving in the wind on clotheslines.

Jo said...

You create a wonderful scene here. I really felt I could feel the breeze in the linen and smell all the foliage and I felt relaxed and happy in doing so. Beautifully expressed! By the way this is Jo aka abigfatcanofworms from https://outofthecave.blog

Sunra Rainz said...

What a beautiful sensory poem, Margaret! Loved all the sounds and smells and especially that last stanza:

"Pasted behind closed eyes
this serenade of summers past resides,
a bit yellowed; only minutes lost,
a season of yesteryear gained."

vanderloost said...

I could picture your poem. Very visual and soothing.

Dyanne @ I Want Backsies said...

This makes me think of when I was a child, especially the clover. It grew on our playground at school, and we would pick it and make necklaces from it when we were supposed to be playing softball

Yvonne Osborne said...

Love this! And thanks for reminder of Shay's Garden!

Nicole Horlings said...

Beautifully written :)

Susie Clevenger said...

So beautiful, full of images, and emotions that lead me down my own memory lane