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July 5, 2014

Dusk. ~ Christopher Cadra {Poem}

David DeHetre/Flickr https://www.flickr.com/photos/davedehetre/4985618178/in/photolist-8AyAA7-77SmH7-6tXjH-f37U4L-7Q2LtJ-H8iTk-4F6Eyr-59C7pG-aDCXxt-5XvMPG-8MPTtc-bCac8G-DfBAz-4AJKxS-9CYhwy-bcUCA4-buS7zF-rPMDh-hBWqB3-69NyVP-dxDcc2-4bvEEH-75tzv1-d4H3au-dxEnsM-6o6Bw-gPJ9hi-6uELk3-zoguX-4kLwMD-dzcHWx-5Sb73R-5W4znq-cfo8Yw-nSCAop-nsGAHD-cK8TN1-28Jvj-azZGfC-6vP9Zs-fJny8E-ckfY6A-5SaryB-9rMY66-8HJYBA-M4EgC-7G2rpM-M4Lyz-HQi4-ehMrrr

This poem was written as I recalled my childhood and vacations I used to take in Delaware.

The “dusk” along with the visible moon and vanishing firefly are used to represent the ephemeral nature of both day and youth. The rest of the images are simply used to recall youth itself.

 

Bubblegum memories
(I forget if it was Bubble Yum,
Big League Chew, or Bazooka),
in bumblebee fields,
somewhere in Delaware.

“I think I got a tick or two,”
I say, but I don’t really care.
I’m more concerned with the moon
being out while the sun is still out.
How can that be?

I ask, “How can that be?”
but no one seems to know
or care. All anyone, including me,
really cares about is the sun,
and how much time we have before it’s gone.

Someone picks up a Wiffle Ball
bat and says we should play,
and I notice, about 10 yards away,
the glow of a firefly that vanishes
before I can point it out.

 

 

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Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: David DeHetre/Flickr

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