kid memories

. . . are no less powerful than adult ones . . .


Nostos

There was an apple tree in the yard --
this would have been
forty years ago -- behind,
only meadows. Drifts
of crocus in the damp grass.
I stood at that window:
late April. Spring
flowers in the neighbor's yard.
How many times, really, did the tree
flower on my birthday,
the exact day, not
before, not after? Substitution
of the immutable
for the shifting, the evolving.
Substitution of the image
for relentless earth. What
do I know of this place,
the role of the tree for decades
taken by a bonsai, voices
rising from the tennis courts --
Fields. Smell of the tall grass, new cut.
As one expects of a lyric poet.
We look at the world once, in childhood.
The rest is memory.

- Louise Gluck -

Thanks to for link to the poem
Featured here - :thumb342530338: MID WEEK ART FOR THE SOUL...MY DEAR FRIENDS AND WATCHERS,
I SHALL NOT BE AROUND HERE MUCH THIS WEEK-END
AND SO I DECIDED TO DO A MID-WEEK FEATURE FOR YOU ALL....
I HOPE YOU ENJOY AS MUCH AS I DID COLLECTING AND
SEARCHING.... FOR THOSE WHO CELEBRATE IT...
AND A CONTINUING GOOD WEEK FOR THOSE THAT DO NOT...
:iconsomehugsplz::iconkimberely:




Hidden Souls by ~Mariano-PetitDeMuratSoon to be ashes by *Vidom Thank you