grandpa's deck

Saturday, August 15, 2009

he is not inside
he is out
creaking
the weather-beaten metal
finding moonrise through smoke
and binoculars
I am not allowed to touch

his stories drift
in honeysuckled air
past my consciousness
mingling in low laughs and sibling shouts
I wonder
how he was
the man in the stories

I am in and out
with sunset
I hear - I do not listen -
until the creaking stops
the smoke subsides
the moon still rises
and he is not inside
or out

in the morning
sun bakes aging wood and silent metal
with evening echoes and
fading memories
I find cows in binoculars
and he is not
where I look for him

back deck words twined into clematis
replay stories
in honeysuckled fragrance that knew
this hero
watching an older man rise
in the moonlight
telling his youth

and finding
me
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Written in response to L.L. Barkat's poetry prompt - The Porch.

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Don't miss out on my weekend giveaway, Praise, if you're just stopping in today. Simply leave a comment at this post for a chance at winning this 8x10 print.

And on a reading/writing note, check out my friend Alison's riveting real-life character sketch and this fabulous article about reasons to read poetry.


8 comments:

L.L. Barkat said...

Kelly, this is beautiful. I loved the way the images kept revealing something new... the living, the loss, the finding.

this phrase delighted...

"finding moonrise through smoke"

Kelly said...

Thank you, L.L. I am so honored at your comment.

Monica Sharman said...

This part hit something deep:
"binoculars
I am not allowed to touch"

emily said...

I love this new space. There is air and quiet and peacefulness here. I will change my link tonight. I loved your old design, too...but I love even more how you are changing your design to match your life stage. So lovely, as always.

Laure said...

this ...

I am in and out
with sunset
I hear - I do not listen -
until the creaking stops
the smoke subsides
the moon still rises
and he is not inside
or out

so much hinges on 'until'

so much ....

mom2six said...

Wow..."I hear - I do not listen - until..." unfortunately resonates. Yet glad I can hear now through the mist of memory.

deb said...

back deck words twined into clematis..

perfect

Claire said...

this takes me back to my grandfather's lap where stories of love and life, hardship and God were told.

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