Remembering Boyhood

The late afternoon sun,
hanging low above the horizon,
shines through the garden trees,
and streams in at my kitchen window;
casting long, leafy shadows
on my walls and counter tops.

The tiny particles of dust,
floating in the near still air,
sparkle and dance on the rays,
seemingly descending and ascending,
then descending again,
to finally settle where they may.

The lacy spider's web outside,
in the corner of the window frame,
glistens in the brilliance of the sun;
giving rise to dreamy thoughts,
of boyhood days long past,
and treasured moments in the countryside.

Lazy summer days just swimming and fishing,
or lolling about in the grass;
catching grasshoppers and fireflies,
and watching spiders as they spin,
or as they sit all poised to pounce,
on the next unwary victim caught in their gauzy trap.

Gloriously simple yet busy days,
as only boys reckon busyness;
running and whooping and chasing one another,
in games of cowboys and Indians;
scaring up rabbits in the tall sparse grass,
and trying to run them to ground.

Getting dirty as sin from the rich, black soil,
hardly any white to be seen but our eyes;
making rope swings in the Chinaberry tree,
seeing how high we could make the swing go,
climbing in the pear trees, though it was forbidden,
digging up sassafras roots and smoking "rabbit tobacco".

Sneaking a ripe watermelon from the field,
and breaking it open behind the old barn,
enjoying the rich sweet savor of it,
(and enjoying it the more because it was purloined.)
having seed spitting contests, simply to see,
who had the greatest distance and accuracy.

Sleeping on the screened in porch,
after a hot bath to remove
the accumulated residue of a hard day at play,
sleeping the sleep of childhood innocence,
dreaming dreams of all that we hope to someday be,
giving not a thought to how we might ever accomplish it.

All of this and more I dreamily think on,
when I see the late afternoon sun,
shining through the garden trees,
and streaming in at my kitchen window;
casting long, leafy shadows
on my walls and counter tops.

Learn more about this author, Richard Ellis.
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