Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Branching Memory

I see all the way back to the day I was three
Snapshot memories, snippets, and vivid moments
I used to see if I could run the yard to the tree
Before our little schnauzer, McDuff, could run it

That was the first tree I ever climbed. Felt the sting
There on my ear from a fuzzy caterpillar

We buried McDuff under that very same tree
There have been other dogs and have been other trees

But those were my first.
My first pain,
my first death…
A fear

Another tree, another house. We used to chill
In its branches with popsicles or IBC
That tree died years ago; my children never will
Get to climb it. Even the stump was pulled out clean

But that house is an album of stories to fill
Someday soon it too will be a recollection

Some days I’m transported to that old oil town hill
I’m reminded of stories by a taste or smell

The same doorbell tune
Thunderstorms
Bedtime songs
Loved ones

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