Waiting Poem by Scarlett Treat

If you are ever in Mississippi,
Look me up!

I'll be down at the gazebo,
Sipping something cold,
Waiting for you to show - - -

Or maybe I'll be
Twisting in the breeze,
Lazily pushing the swing
With my right toe,

Reading Faulkner or Grisham,
Welty or Morris - - -

Maybe I'll be
In the grape arbor,
Picking the richest bunches,
Fully purple by now,
And dusted with dew - - -

You could find me
In the apple orchard,
Or mayhap the peach,
Catching ripe fruit.
Smelling winey in its ripeness,
As it plops
Onto the rich green grass - - -

I could possibly be
Down by the quickly flowing stream,
Sitting on the warm rocks,
Dangling my bare brown legs
In its icy swirls - - -

Look out into the fields
If you hear the rumble
Of the big green tractor,
'Cause I might be there,
Turning the earth under
To rest, to lie fallow and rich - - -

Or I might be in the barn,
Between the prickly warm hay bales,
Waiting,
Like Little Boy Blue,
Fast asleep,
Until springtime comes again
When you are here.