Saturday, March 29, 2014

AGS

In the high grass place behind the half-built house,
there were grasshoppers on stalks
and it was just a short, secret walk 
down to a creek no one else knew about but us.

Back there, we didn't care about the real world--
there were willows and birch
and a glorious feeling of being out of the reach
of those who didn't like the girls we'd become.

I brought Peach Creek and you had Berry Frost,
and then there was a bottle of Plum Hollow just in case.
You lay back on the grass and raised your arm,
shading your eyes as you watched the red-winged blackbirds race.

We should have been in class, mute and bored silly,
but instead we went down there and talked about everything,
most of it ridiculous, but it didn't matter--
we had the day and a buzz and our mood rings stayed cherry red.

I shouldn't have kissed you, I guess.
I shouldn't have given in to the comfort and the blur.
There were things we kept secret after that,
truth we saved for Annie Greensprings, and only spoke for her.
______

For the Real Toads mini-challenge. For anyone who doesn't know, Annie Greensprings was a cheap wine they had in the 70s. I loved the stuff. You kind of had to be there.

 

 

21 comments:

TexWisGirl said...

hadn't heard of that wine, but there was another cheapo fruity kind my sister always drank. can't remember the name right now, tho.

TexWisGirl said...

okay, boone's farm was one of them, but there's another one... (getting old sucks...)

hedgewitch said...

Annie Greensprings was quite the pal of mine at one time. My favorite was the apple-y one, like the forbidden fruit that tastes so sweet and which I taste again reading this. Beautiful and bittersweet, Shay.

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

apple berri, lambrusco, riunite. these were inexpensive but tasty

Margaret said...

floating on a memory… that's what this poem is. We all have these moments as we get older, get transported by something (for me usually a song) and I relive the array of emotions… I love this type of poem.

Kerry O'Connor said...

One of the things I really appreciate about your poetry is the attention to little details, which so breathe life into any scene you set. The grasshoppers on the stalks, what the other kids were doing in school, the flash of a blackbird's wing. And between all the details are the emotions, thoughts and bitter-sweet tales of love. What more could one ask of a Sunday morning song?

Sumana Roy said...

i like this escape into the dream world...and reliving those moments
....

Kenia Cris said...

I second Kerry here, I love your attention to details, you create great imagery. Love your stories. <3

Mama Zen said...

Perfect.

Gail said...

The first two verses took me back to childhood. The rest took me places I remember well.

Kathryn said...

Love the imagery of childhood, the deliciousness of summer, secrets shared and skipping school. Also love how the tone changes slightly in that last verse, the secrets after that kiss.

Daryl said...

delicious ....

Harshal Gupta said...

Ah young sweet love!! Superbly done. :)

Björn said...

The forbidden fruits in love and cheap alcohol.. there were days when we all were young... what a tale you weave... Had not heard of Annie Greensprings .. but I guess some things are not exported (fortunately)...

Sam Edge said...

Moody Blue was the 2 dollar wine in my neck of the woods. This is a great slice if the past.

De said...

LOVE your afterthought, especially. ;)

Susie Clevenger said...

There are things only wine will speak..love the beauty of this. It brushes me with my own memories.

myinnerchick.com said...

****but instead we went down there and talked about everything,
most of it ridiculous, but it didn't matter--
we had the day and a buzz and our mood rings stayed cherry red***

Your words drench into my core.

xx

manicddaily said...

You really do recreate the moment s here in a very vivid and palpable way. The taste of nostalgia--very well done, Shay. k.

Marian said...

love this, Shay! we had a crick out back, too. and the girls tended to drink Mad Dog, the grape kind. this is a beautiful snapshot of a heady time.

Helen said...

You have a way of casting spells on us .. this poem certainly does. I love reaching back in time for those memories.