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Remember Indiana
by Lacy D PhillipsI had forgotten the crunch of leaves underfoot,
that perfect burnt sienna of the sugar maple out front,
the echo of the screen door slamming,
the angle that the sun sets, beyond magenta,
behind the Sherman Minton Bridge.
How the music always cuts out down The Cut,
but you never really mind 'cause the view is enough.
The damned zinias in bloom
and the sweet stink of the pear tree.
The whisper of a hundred thousand drying leaves.
A dozen pairs of green eyes glowing in the headlights,
hundreds of ladybugs between windowpanes.
Red clay caked on new asphalt,
And there might be words to describe
the bite in the air...
And then again,
there might not.
10/23/2003 Posted on 10/23/2003
Copyright © 2024 Lacy D Phillips
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 10/23/03 at 08:13 PM wonderful usage of color to allow the poem to be embodied by the topic...aren't u clever...and you know I am a sucker for the details, gotta have em, and you do--my favorite parts: "that perfect burnt sienna of the sugar maple out front,
the echo of the screen door slamming," AND "The whisper of a hundred thousand drying leaves"...great work, Lacy...peace, jewels |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 07/10/08 at 12:05 PM i've never been to indiana, but this is gorgeous. and usually i'm not fond of artificial text colors and whatnot...but this really works, actually. you've got some really lyrical words and imagery in this one. i think it's a gem. |
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