Saturday, July 27, 2019

Nostalgic

My original books from childhood
Nostalgic

This summer's eve is reminiscent of bedtimes long ago, Mother's voice rhythmically soft,
screen window flung wide, toads and cicadas a backdrop to book's pages slowly turning,
coaxing eyes to blink, lashes to droop; (summer of '73 - Misty of Chincoteague & Sea Star).

Perhaps it's the birdsong winding down as the cricket's chorus begins,
occasional shadow passing overhead (realize it's bat, not swallow), back deck, screenless,
mountain breeze soothing, book in my lap as if the effort to hold aloft is too much...

Awakened by muffled bark of a neighbor's dog, mine at my feet, his rumbling
a feeble attempt at a warning (he's as somnolent as I); invite him beneath cotton-worn quilt,
our cozy haven as darkness tucks us in and Mother's voice resumes.

Margaret Bednar, July 27, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini-Challenge - Let Evening Come".  Seriously, this happened just the other night ... I was hard-pressed to make it to my bed.  I think we will soon have the lower back deck screened and I will spend nights on a true, southern summer porch.  Below, I invite you to listen to me read my poem.


13 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

This took me back to childhood summers. I remember reading My Friend Flicka and Green Grass of Wyoming. Sigh. I would love to sleep in a screened in porch.

Jim said...

Memories, nostalgia. Liked your prose poem and the recording.
My bed from age six, sister was one then and got her own room--we only had four, two bed, a living, and a kitchen, until I left home was a studio couch on the front porch. Grandpa and Dad screened it and put in sliding storm windows for winter. There wasn't any heat or A/C and Nebraska winters left frost on my blankets.
I would read under the covers, mostly Zane Grey. I think I have read all of his books and stories. I don't think Mom ever tucked me in, but she would see me into bed and pull the light chain. Our dog slept on the back porch, also enclosed.
..

Jim said...

(not a lasting comment -- Our younger daughter works for BP, she was working in London for five years, 2009 until 2015. She took her Hub and two daughters, then in Jr. High (BP) and the other (KP) four months old when they left.
We would see them once in the summer and again in other times of the year. Our visits were around a month each time, in the middle we would take a "holiday" jaunt in to Europe or have a cruise or both so as to not wear out our welcome.
I know you have a daughter who is spending time in London and visiting elsewhere, soon to come home. If it becomes permanent or semi, be sure you can do something similar. At least summers for the younger kids.
..)

Old Egg said...

Life seems to be less fun for everyone now. We seem to have lost the joy of growing and exploring now being too embroiled with hand held devices to live a normal life enjoying our world.

Kim M. Russell said...

I listened and read simultaneously, Margraret, and your voice breathed even more beauty into the poem. I enjoyed the nostalgia of your childhood, which was so different to mine (no mountain breeze, cicadas, crickets or screens on windows or doors), but with the mutual thread of birdsong, books and mother’s voice.

Rommy said...

All of the imagery feels comes together like fabric pieces in a well-loved quilt.

Kerry O'Connor said...

You have conveyed the atmosphere of the evening so well and the nostalgia of the old books and memories of a mother's voice really resonated with me.

Helen said...

A lovely pastoral Margaret ~~~ if I had a screened porch I would sleep on it as many nights as I could. In Bend that would mean most of summer and early Fall.

Linda Lee Lyberg said...

A lovely and nostalgic piece of childhood always remains with us. This is beautiful Margaret.

The Bizza said...

Warm and cozy, just like a quilt settling upon the end of the day.

robkistner said...

I am late to the party today, but here now to read. This is a wonderful write Margaret, and a worthy tribute to evening. What a lovely recall of your mother’s voice... :-)

Yvonne Osborne said...

It was so comforting to hear mother's voice (and dad's) as I drifted off to sleep, knowing I was safe and they would take care of things.
Thanks for the memories.

purplepeninportland.com said...

Beautiful, Margaret. I would love to sleep in a screened in porch.