Poetry Friday: “Afternoon on a Hill”

“Sunny Days” by Lawrence Alma-Tadema,1874
Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Fund

“Afternoon on a Hill”

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down
the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to
show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be
mine,
And then start down!

by Edna St.  Vincent Millay

School ends in three days. Then I will be “the gladdest thing under the sun!”

Please be sure to visit Michelle Kogan for the Poetry Friday Roundup.


		
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Poetry Friday: Grandma’s Syringa

Syringa, which is also known as mock orange, is in full bloom here in my corner of Connecticut, and it always reminded of the massive bush in my grandmother’s yard.  I grew up next door to my grandmother and spent as much time playing in her yard as I did in my own. Our shrubs and flowers were grown from cuttings and divided clumps of her shrubs and flowers, and I loved them all. So when my parents sold the house I grew up in, I divided as many of these heirlooms as I could. I still have peonies, iris, and poppies that once bloomed in both yards. The only plant that didn’t survive the move was my grandmother’s syringa (also known as mock orange).

We moved when
Grandma’s syringa
was blooming,
its branches curved
earthward by the weight
of a thousand snowy blossoms.
Their sweet, heady scent,
the scent of my childhood
is now tinged
with sadness
and longing for
a home that exists
only in my heart.

© Catherine Flynn, 2018

Please be sure to visit Kiesha Shepard at Whispers from the Ridge for the Poetry Friday Roundup.