I remember the green lawn,
flecked with clumps of clover,
California in the summer,
catching bees in jars of water,
pinning them to wood,
watching them revive.
-Ms. Tarantula Hawk,
Queen of the Pepper Trees,
stalks me like a trapdoor spider.
The black roaring wood bee,
king of the roof and eves,
finds me, then hovers.
I smell the Honeysuckle
Jasmine and Geranium
on Avenida de los Flores,
-Running through the sprinklers,
laughing, jumping, shouting,
Dripping in the front doors.
These were days of Kool Aid,
and Wonder Bread,
peanut butter and jelly.
Now, they are but chaff,
burnt by Indian Summers,
whisked away by dry Septembers.
I reminisce and laugh,
As I recline and fade away
In memory’s hazy embers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem