KELLY R. SAMUELS
ALL THIS WAS FIELDS IN MY DAY
Where the river, still
Still there, just a glimmer from the slope – all the grasses tall,
the trees unruly.
Along the road, the pine
with its truncated branches to keep the lines clear.
And then the hedge unchecked, the tops intertwining, berries red.
with its lilies and poppies and marigolds. The towering stalk
of something Latin.
Run, run, running in the dried patch between the grapevine
and the two apple trees. Those apples collected and peeled
and cooked and made into sauce never quite sweet enough.
Back along the stone wall crumbling, a snake, once. Taken
to with a hoe, quick and sure. This is what you recall: him doing
what was thought needed.
And your mother calling from the back door.
All of spring and summer and fall – these. Given over.
Kelly R. Samuels lives in the upper Midwest. Her poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net, and has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous journals, including The Carolina Quarterly, Sweet Tree Review, Salt Hill, and RHINO. She has a chapbook forthcoming in early 2019 from Unsolicited Press.