Just Read Come Sunday Again Poem by Grant House

Hi Sojourner,
Just read Come Sunday again.
“It’s Memorial Day in Black America
Or the Fourth of July or Labor Day
Or any Sunday in between.”

I wanted to thank you for that.
Those textures and aromas
That music
The warmth and colors
and how your memories
Got mine all kicked up

In this parallel universe, I recall
Summer days at the lake in South Jersey
Corn on the cob and potato salad
Watermelon eating contests
Grilling burgers
The sweet taste of amber cedar water
And the cool splash of going in
(had to wait an hour)

Tag and chicken fights in the lake
The mixed smells of pine, charcoal lighter
And someone’s cigar way over there
The sound of Dad and friends from church
Rehashing the morning’s sermon
Arguing the fine points

Wet bathing suits
Terry cloth towels around the shoulders
And some dim sense that this was temporary.

Mosquitoes and little flies

Your poem definitely stirred up something in here.
It would run away with me all day if I let it.
Anyway, thank you.
Grant