For Christmas, I want to buy you the softest green
shirt, green the color of Wisconsin in springtime,
so green we could almost fall into the color
and find ourselves running once more to the lake,
cane poles in hand, to see if the fish are biting.
Or we might find ourselves in the dark green woods
behind the neighbor’s house where we used to dig
in the old junk yard for shards of blue and white porcelain.
But green is my favorite color, not yours. And those days
of running down the great grassy hill are gone, are gone
and faded. You like blue. Forgive me, brother, for buying
you again for Christmas another green shirt. Oh hush,
can you hear them, the cicadas, trilling through the leaves
of the old willow tree, serenading the warm summer night?
That’s yummy…I know the green, and am charmed by your creating a poem from this jewel from your childhood. It works beautifully.
Ha, thank you! I am going to give it to my brother this year INSTEAD of a real green shirt
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Friday, December 12, 2014 at 12:57 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “For My Brother, Who Must Have a Whole Closet of Soft Green Shirts”
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Delightful. We give what we want to get. Especially to our cozy people. My brother knows all about this, for years he gave my sister footballs.
That is very funny about your brother and sister This year I actually DID NOT get him a green shirt! Ha! But I did write him a green shirt poem for those, ahem, at least dozen other years. Xo r
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Friday, December 12, 2014 at 1:52 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “For My Brother, Who Must Have a Whole Closet of Soft Green Shirts”
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Nice sonnet look to the poem, but such a true seasonal — the season, of course, being family, memory, and the comfort it brings.