Scraps of Memories

Little bits of memories,
most over forty years old
bouncing up against one another
spilling into my present consciousness
a bit of this and a measure of that
places in my backyard, the smell of the kitchen
the way the stairs to the upstairs opened
to block the way to the living room
the roots from the neighbor’s
weeping willow, yellow, whips to snack
the roots under the liner of our above ground pool
blue, pale blue vinyl slide against my foot
the basement, cool and damp
grabbing my bike, head down to the river
up the dirt road to the raspberry bramble
the arborvitae bush, the jack in the pulpit
below the yew bushes out front, bright red berries
maple in the front yard, hydrangea bush
in the corner of the flower, the vegetable garden
the large stand of lilac, the dogwood,
with the hens and chickens below
all part of the world I knew
about eight or ten
falling out of my memories
onto these lines

May 5, 2008