NANCY MARIE DAVIS




July














The calendar year is more than half over.
Days slip into nights in the July of Oregon.
Working some on the house and the land.
Working through. Working at.
I don't know why I call it work.
It's just doing the thing of moving.
Finding my sense of humor when it
gets misplaced, as well as my eye glasses.
I look old, I sound old, I feel old...
but, I'm not. I never grew up.
In fact, I am still ten and a half.
But some adult in my mind, I don't know
where she comes from, keeps telling me
to do stupid things, like plant flowers in
the yard. It's tough to ignore, I tell ya.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Feel free to add your comments.