Thursday, August 18, 2011

Lottie Trude

.


My Dad didn’t dowse water - clients for advertising in that Clay County weekly maybe - but that old lady from Texas who helped raise me might have. She made folk art from that clay, and carved faces from fallen apples that wrinkled and aged as they dried, so human, almost alive, and kept a black widow in a jar for us to recognize, explained what the katydids were, that sound they made . . . and she did wield a fly swatter very well ‘cross my backside when I was bad . . .


an aroma
of green walnuts -
summer dusk



.

6 comments:

Wrick said...

oh. i know this scent. ...and the scent of green apricots - spring.

and black walnuts. musty. autumn.

and... cool ku, Bandit. - aloha.

pat n said...

hi, bandit,
always enjoy seeing what you are posting!
especially like this "green walnut" ku. scented with the upcoming autumn air.
cheers,
pat

bandit said...

Thanks, guys.

sanjuktaa said...

green walnut...lovely!

Melissa said...

Wait...did I really not comment on this before? Love. Still waiting for that memoir. You can do it all in the form of haibun if you want.

bandit said...

It's, uh, really a private sort of reflection, sweet, yet somewhat melancholy.