Posted June 3rd, 2021 by Gracithe1andonly
in denial that I'm in college
June 14th, 2021
a/n: i like my hometown. here is some drabble about it.
a train stopped traffic, so i parked
and stared at the bluebonnets.
power lines slice the sky into something like a stained glass window
and horses hide in pastures tucked between neighborhoods and railroads.
there are no rivers here, but when it storms,
the streets overflow with dangerous waters, roaring with joy.
flowers erupt between cracks in the sidewalk.
this city was never meant to be, and yet it is.
i’m always dazed in the haze born from the union of sun and water.
children guard children (but not very vigilantly,)
because the way the light reflects off a pool’s surface turns humor to mischief.
a shimmer from blacktop makes crossing the parking lot seem impossible.
the potholes seem deeper for some reason,
and i am afraid to travel because my car might overheat.
now is the time for friendship and love,
so despite the haze i try to remain amazed and awake.
beginnings smell like endings and vice versa.
the haze leaves, but the shimmer remains.
“fear the autumn storms,” my mother said, but
the neighbor girl and i lived in a fort of fallen branches
and my brothers kayaked down the street because they could.
we cannot fear the autumn storms if from them is born our fun.
if i have to be stuck with a color, i don’t mind green.
there is nearly always green underfoot and overhead, but
blinding white choked the trees four times in my lifetime,
and gave me my name. its rarity meant beauty.
the joyous expectation in the middle of the bleakest time of year
fills the streets and makes even burning gasoline smell festive.
cold and blood both smell like iron and machinery,
and frost melts fast on the blacktop.
“bridge may ice in cold weather,” read the signs that, to date,
have only been relevant once.
See more stories by Tía Snow