Debora Short

Rookie (August 4 / Florida)

The Hills I Now Dance Upon

Decades faded
Old school
With whom
I had spent
So much time
But who never
Really knew me
The old neighborhoods,
That taught me
To sail away on
Skate boards
While holding on
To billowing
White sheets
Those summer storms
How to fly away
The highest kite
To design
Private worlds
Robinson Crusoe
A favorite aunt,
Much beloved
Who sometimes
Wore her sunglasses
In the dark
A generous grandmother
Who always
Saw my needs
Because she
Had walked
Eons ago in
Shoes not unlike
My own
My lab partners
Always the perfect
Second calls
Wonderful mentors,
Like dear old Dr. Bach
Whose grace irrigated
Hopes …his were
So sadly
Left over
In the Fall of Saigon
He never fail-ed
In his care, and
Coached me
To reach
A bit higher
Belief in self
A wonderful
Was he
Goals beyond
The plates
Filled with day
Old scraps
Of lifetimes
Worldly lamenters
Who constantly
In our ear
Faded dirty
Tagged with
Ragged beliefs
That it was ok to
Look the other way
Ideas of old
Those were never
For me
Let alone
Any small soul
I wonder,
To each of them
And, too
Are they
Of how they
Shaped the
Hills I now
Dance upon?

(Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee
August 1,2006)

Submitted: Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Edited: Friday, August 20, 2010

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