nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

imagination

with 2 comments


When I was little, I lived in Alberta, in a house built by my father and mother. At the back of the house was a veranda. Below the veranda was a big vegetable garden, full of corn and pumpkins and mint. At the end of the garden, was a power pole, used by my mother as a clothes pole.

~

Scan_20180830 (4)

my mom and I in the garden … the clothes pole is in the far left of the photo, at the end of the garden

~

On laundry day, my mother hung the wet clothing on a line stretching between the house and the pole. As she hung the laundry, I would play at the end of the garden, under my mother’s watchful eye.

~

But I was not where she supposed me to be. Instead, I was off on some imaginary adventure. One place I would go —  into the cave beneath the rocks around the base of the clothes pole. In my imagination, the cave led to a tunnel, running under the garden and weaving between roots of pumpkin and mint. I don’t remember what I ‘saw’ in the world I entered or any of the adventures I must have had. Imagination can take you anywhere!

~

laundry day

~

mint splashes, fresh

against the wall

~

her mother pins

clothes to the line

~

shirts dance towards

pole at the end

of the garden,

a pole covered

in pumpkin vine

~

where a small girl

skips, turns her chin

towards blue sky

~

where rainbow begins

and ends,

on the green hill,

entry to cave,

hidden from sun

~

and the girl skips

slower, slower

~

follows tunnel

under garden

between tendrils

of ripe pumpkin

and root of mint

~

and above earth,

her mother pins

clothes to the line

~

~

Scan_20180830 (3).jpg

~

All my best,

Jane

Written by jane tims

September 10, 2018 at 2:30 pm

2 Responses

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  1. I could smell the clean clothes and the pungent earth… and you know that’s quite a feat for me. Magical …

    Liked by 1 person

    ppost2015

    September 14, 2018 at 1:30 pm


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