Barbara J. Glynn


If I hold my head just right I catch
a scent of The Grove at West School
where small girls once designed
floor plans with lines of pine needles,
piled the softest for a plump bed,
tiny tub scooped out to wash the baby.
Small treasures collected in cupped hands:
leaves to rival Walt Disney's
Wonderful World of Color,
chips of mica miniature mirrors,
flat stones pocketed for hopscotch,
sassafras leaves held to noses.
Acorns with caps were gathered,
broken open, provided fresh meat.
Echoes of "Red Rover, Red Rover"
bounced off the school wall
until the bell clanged and time was up.
Published in The Longfellow Journal, Volume XIV
© Barbara J. Glynn
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author.

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