Sunday, September 4, 2011

Scruff


He was a scruff of a boy
traipsing along the dirt road on Rocky Point.
His overalls were worn thin at the knees,
he wore no shirt, no shoes.
A straw hat fit cockeyed across his
head and sheltered half his face.  I heard him
whistling a familiar tune as he sauntered
on whittling down the dusty Queen
Ann’s lace that overgrew the soil
and lay on road like maidens in wait
for the guillotine. He whomped their
heads off with his walking stick and never
missed a step. He never looked my way
even when I stopped the car
but I couldn’t take my eyes
off this scene as he turned off onto the path
that led to the cool spring with grapevines
swings that my brothers and I would
go to on summer days like these. Time
reverses for me for a while until I start
the car up and travel forward, leaving
the innocence of that time in the clouds
of road dirt behind me.




14 comments:

Mary said...

This is an absolutely beautiful poem, Judy. A wonderfully warm character sketch, filled with nostalgia. It warms me as well as saddens me, as that time is no more.

Ann said...

I'm glad some innocent moments still exist, Judy. You caught this so well. (And I always thought it was so unfair that boys could go without shirts on hot days!)

Peggy said...

What a beautiful character sketch Judy. I am swept into your memory, even if it is only a feeling really and I do not know exactly what memory it is calling up of yours. You just set the scene so well. Excellent.

Lynne said...

Beautiful scenario, excellent poem, Judy. Mesmerizing.

Raining Iguanas said...

I like this very much. My wife and I were just talking about never seeing children playing in yards anymore. I was telling her I saw two boys walking their bikes along a country road the other day and it was like spotting a rare songbird. I have begun to document similar memories on my site. Pleasure to meet you.

Laurie Kolp said...

Judy- I love this, especially:

"I heard him
whistling a familiar tune as he sauntered
on whittling down the dusty Queen
Ann’s lace that overgrew the soil
and lay on road like maidens in wait
for the guillotine. He whomped their
heads off with his walking stick and never
missed a step."

Dang... should of just posted the whole thing.

Ann LeFlore said...

It was a wonderful poem and innocent moments still exists thank you and happy gooseberry days
http://gatelesspassage.com/2011/09/04/haggle-baggily/

Bethe77 said...

That just took me to that field and the young woman in the car watching the young man wholp the queens ann head off. So visual and so beautiful
Lovely lovely lovely
Blessings

Willow said...

Beautiful and poignant and vividly descriptive, Judy. I hope you paint him and the Queen Anne's lace. Just beautiful.

Morning said...

beautiful,

Glad to see you in.

Happy Poetry Picnic.

charleslmashburn said...

Wonderful poem, Judy. So visual and takes me back to those simpler times with you. I like the fact the boy never even knew you were there--or if he did, didn't care. Awesome writing!

My entry: http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/09/04/blood-on-the-moon-2/

bel said...

"dusty Queen Anne's Lace" - a fantastic image!

Beautiful poem.

bel

The Noiseless Cuckoo Clock said...

incredible.

The Cello Strings said...

perfect.

:)