Somewhere beyond the fallow field
the edge drops over pump-house hill.
A shallow hollow is hidden well
by tangled growth of roots and vines.
Layered under leaves and twigs
warm memories in an old tin box
packed with thoughts of saddened love
hide in the hollow of pump-house hill:
an ivory button, from worn-out dress
a soother stone, quite flat and smooth
a tip of feather from a pheasant tail
a spinner-top that hums when spun
a wishbone with its wish intact
a glassy marble, the winners prize
a hank of hair, a tortoise comb
a clothespin doll that stands alone.
Sweet memories still.
|FRIEDA RISVOLD, 79, Seattle, retired bookkeeper, is a veteran Senior Poet Laureate. She is inventor of a brief form called “The Atom.” The return winner of the Washington SPL award loves cats. Her dad's disappearance set Frieda on a lifelong genealogical search for her roots. Her sign is Scorpio.