turningA Poem by VolIn Memphis, a long time ago, cold was a new adventure of hunting on my uncle’s farm for rabbits and squirrel, fried up by Mama and set steaming on the kitchen table where talk of the day’s tramp in the dead woods, icy creeks, and hurting fingers, froze as memories I still enjoy.
It’s the first crisp day of this late autumn; the edge of cool cuts my skin and propels a shiver through the interior dark. Hackberry leaves rain cankerous yellow through the shafts of a thinning glare just now topping the mountain, a promise of things not to come in this late hour.
This first crisp day portends something duller than I like. Some kind of loneliness not aligned with friends or family; the looming parties laden with candy and gifts are not the symbols they used to be. They do nothing to ease the pain of a thousand cuts too shallow to see. © 2025 VolReviews
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3 Reviews Added on January 10, 2025 Last Updated on January 10, 2025 AuthorVolGouge Eye, TXAboutMy name is Vol Lindsey. I live in Gouge Eye, Texas, a tiny ghost town on Rt. 66. I am a retired creative writing, English literature teacher. I have been writing poetry and reading publicly since 196.. more..Writing
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