[Note: the following is inspired by the poem “Eating the Avocado by Carrie Fountain. Linda Wagner provides prompts based on poetry for “wild writing.” This was the prompt for October 23.]
“I’ve Never Described”
I’ve never described the morning light through the living room window,
the slashes of light and shadow on the wheat-colored wall perpendicular to the window
the diagonal lines of light and dark that shorten and eventually disappear as the hours pass.
I’ve never described the cherry tree in the backyard,
the one my husband cut down because it didn’t produce edible fruit.
But he didn’t see, as I see, the value of the snow-white flowers with hints of pink,
the reminder in the still cold month of February that spring is not far away.
I’ve never described the surprise of the sesanqua in the backyard and the frilled pink blossoms that become transparent when the afternoon sun shines through them and I see the veined beauty in each petal.
This bush reminds me of the petite grandmother,
the source of the sesanqua and the red cameila that will bloom in January.
I’ve never described these red petals, either, with the golden crown of the sepals in the middle.
I’ve never described the feeling that when they bloom, I know Grammaw is nearby in spirit and that she has left a legacy of beauty for me.
I’ve never described the soft skin of a toddler, my sons as they were thirty-plus years ago (when did they become men of thirty-five and thirty-one years?) or that of my three-year-old grandson,
the tenderness and fagility of that white skin, unblemished and unscarred by time,
the soft velvet feel when I caress their cheeks,
the bow of their lips relaxed in sleep, tucked against my arm as I hold them those last few minutes before putting them down for the night,
the soft wisps of blond hair across their uncreased foreheads,
thankful that they do not know the worries and cares the next day might bring.
Telling Stories 