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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul

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GROUNDED


When you sit on the grass

in the heat of a July twilight,

watching fireflies rise up into the humid air,

you feel small again

as if their hundred twinkling greetings

were messages from the past,

calling you back to remember yourself,

your roots.

This hour, this lavender duskiness

wraps me in its embrace and beckons me home to Ohio...

corn fields,

barns, painted with long forgotten slogans

rich brown soil,

popsicle smiles,

parents, remembered as they were then,

youthful and strong.

Summer windows open,

its scents and sounds wafting in

with the cooler evening breeze,

while watching the last pale sunlight flicker

on a gauzy, white curtain as it moves

makes me feel as if I could fly,

yet grounded.


Kathryn Tate Jacoby
copyright July 3, 2018








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