Treasure Island

mary douglas

My Grandfather In Broadmoor, Little Rock (circa 1962)

to Mr. and Mrs. Milton B. Young

an orangeade sunset cools behind the trees
of viridian green so thickly laid on
the rose scented air, or magnolia, gardenia,
anywhere astonishes and swings
his backyard hammock

for a moment's respite
and we recite to a summer's breeze
through our open window the
names of clouds as though it were a round
my sister and I

oh cirrus, cumulous, cumulo-stratus
beautiful everything

(we laugh at nimbus)
and eat charbroiled burgers in a restaurant
where the minute man stands guard
and deep dish cherry pie
with a pat of butter piping hot

or watermelon at a stand after the ball games
shading into deep pink and dripping down the chin
of Heaven how could it be otherwise

or the drone of planes fly over catching his eye
and he points out the sky trails mysteriously
or we have a small party for the moment
celebrating Telstar

drinking Tang for breakfast, instant breakfasts
crunching strawberry filled toaster pastries just before the bus comes,
goodbye my milky stars my beautiful everything
we will forget to say like a scene out of Our Town
we will remember someday

outrageously the blaze of the nasturtiums
orange, pink, and red shading into purple
oh do not cry for what was left unsaid

since even then we understood,
packing our schoolbooks in
for scholastic paperbacks, instead,
it was an Eternal neighborhood

mary angela douglas 10 may 2014

Submitted: Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, July 23, 2014

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