Happy August

Boy and dog, starry night, Nino

I would have said,
no, we could not explain
the physics of the lightning,
or the rain,
stars galloping
across the endless sky…
I would have said,
no, we could not tell why
the world would trade its green
for gold, and fall
onto the earth
we treaded with our small
bare feet of childhood.

No, we surely could
not ever tell.
We simply understood.

 

© 2014 Sasha A. Palmer

Image: © 2015 Nino Chakvetadze, reproduced with permission.

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Blind-man’s-buff (poem)

 

Group of Figures (Study for "Un dimanche à la Grande Jatte")

The sun trapped in my half-sealed eyelids, I
could not peek if I tried – the blindfold’s tight.
No need to, though – I can identify
you anytime, old friend, both day and night.

No matter where I go I’d recognize
the bitter-sweet of clover on the tongue,
the cool caress of wind, I don’t need eyes
to see you as you were, when we were young.

I hear the stillness of the hot high-noon,
and smell the earth stirred by the garden rake,
I feel the rain with all my cells, and soon
I know you, friend, I do, make no mistake.

You are my dream, my childhood, my July,
I carry with me, though I’ve left, you stay
forever in that place where you and I –
that magic place –
where blind-man’s-buff we play.

 

© 2014 Sasha A. Palmer

Image: Georges Seurat. Group of Figures (Study for “Un dimanche à la Grande Jatte”), 1884–1885. Oil on panel, Overall: 6 1/16 x 9 3/4 in. (15.4 x 24.8 cm). BF2506. Public Domain.

How’s your February, Kids?

Tasha and Kolya, Nino

Kids, busy living,
have no use for our
big grownup words —
they know a better way
(the best there is)
to spend this precious hour,
so bite your tongue
and let them fly away.

Let them be children,
though it will not last.
Just let them be.
They’re in that magic place
where time is stalled—
no future yet, no past—
just happy now
shines on the old clock’s face.

© 2014 Sasha A. Palmer

Image: © 2013 Nino Chakvetadze, reproduced with permission.

“I do not miss childhood…”

“I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.”

― Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane