I might have been around ten or eleven years old,
visiting relatives in their Appalachian Mountain home.
We could not wait until the fireflies began
their summer night’s performance, as I recall.
The view from my reflections returns me there.
Across the road, my grandfather is firing a pistol
into the side of the mountain for practice.
Pop, pop, pop! I worry about the mountain
and if it was harmed by the pistol’s report.
Our great-aunt picks up a slow-moving, winged beetle
and shows us how to carefully tie a thread to its back leg
and watch it fly in a tethered circle – GENTLY, GENTLY!
These tattered and faded memories remain for now.
Intangible keepsakes that will pass to no one.
But I assume the beetles are generally pleased these days,
since folks really don’t tie thread to their legs anymore.
-
Author:
Michael Anthony (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2023 22:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
a lovely time-stamp of a read
thanks for sharing, dear poet
(its hard, to judge
meaning evolves
generations doing one thing
till, almost overnight
its deemed archaic and cruel
maybe, justly
yet, in those traditions
(wherever they land on our moral compass)
is entrenched, a path to bolster
their experience of life and togetherness
without which, we wouldn't exist
...
hard to judge, best
to forgive as best we can, and carry on
as best we know..)
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