Lessons Learned

Another Thursday night, and poet Victoria Slotto has us mining the depths of childhood memories to come up with a poem to share for dVerse Meeting the Bar. Join in if you can, it's sure to be fun! (Interesting that the first memory I thought of had me perched in a tree, as in the poem Victoria shared in her article. They couldn't keep me out of trees as a kid!)

Lessons Learned

I hauled the schoolbooks

to my study, a sturdy

sheet of plywood

wedged between welcoming

limbs of an oak.

                           Perched high

with a hundred

melodious friends,

a canteen of water and

a Case knife for whittling,

I settled in to learn my lessons.

I learned to blow

through cupped hands

and call the mourning dove.

I mocked the mocking bird;

shared a rasping laugh with Mrs. Crow—

K-haw! K-haw!

I discovered that the cardinal’s

curt tweet announced his

dazzling flash of red.

                                  Overhead

buzzards floated without flapping,

tight soundless circles notifying

of the dead nearby.

Filled with knowledge, 

I scampered

down

to answer Mom’s call to supper.