The smell of wild roses growing along the shoreline
announces the start of summer
I tilled the soil each spring for my garden where
bright red cherry tomatoes and plump round beefsteak ones grew.
baby carrots fresh from the soil and nasturtiums growing nearby
The girls played on the bricks tightrope walking along the edges
singing and dancing while performing their productions
The hammock hung between the dogwood trees where I lay
facing the sky canopied with the fragrant leaves
Wild strawberries grew in the grass of my backyard and when
I mowed the smell of wild onions surrounded me as the tall
grass tickled my legs. Along the fence the roses bloomed in
paint box colors. White flowers painted with
red as if brushed by an invisible artist. On the side of the house
peonies grew in pink profusion. I’d cut them and bring them
straight to the sink. Their blooms held ants between the
petals so I’d run the water hoping not to flatten their beauty.
In front were the azalea bushes, white and pink bouquets and the impatiens
planted along the edge mixing with purple hyacinths
In spring the tulips grew in ordered rows.Later in the summer the gladiolas would
tower over all with their trumpet shaped blooms so heavy they would lean over.
I went past the house since we left. The new owners pulled up the garden.
Replaced it with ground cover. It’s as if my life were erased and all I have
are half remembered memories when my life was car pools, raking, mowing,
and planting a garden. When mother was my job and wife sat on the back burner.
Long Island, Suffolk county, Rocky Point you live as the impression on the sand
stays after the tide ebbs on your beaches where once we walked
our bare feet leaving no impression on the shifting sand.