First Saturday Morning: Beaumont, Texas
On oyster shell and palm tree lanes,
our new neighbors’ trailers, humpbacked
mildew-streaked beached wanderers,
surround ours, muddy with road-splash.
Sunlight bright on ocean air, mid-morning,
country music blares through screen doors.
Mama, in pink curlers, hums along,
sets terra-cotta pots of peppermint
carnations on our trailer hitch.
Daddy with long-handled scrub brush
hoses down the roof. From above,
his footsteps’ hollow thrum,
swish, splash of brush and water.
My sister rides bikes with her new friend,
singing her way toward seesaw and swings.
In the space between friends,
I sit in black walnut tree shade,
bark scratching through my shirt,
drone of heavy-winged bee, black-striped
yellow fur against blue hydrangea,
damp earth cool brown, smooth
under saw-toothed leaves, remember
last Saturday’s desert-dust front yard,
my best friend’s laughter out her kitchen window,
West Texas sunset-streaked sky, turquoise,
one silver star rising from evening’s deep horizon.
–Sharon Darrow, American poet & author