Summer Treasure

Summer lies hot and heavy on the open field.
The brown grass crackles under the little girl’s feet
As she races from the house to the rambling branch,
Almost—but not quite—bone dry from baked July days.

Long-legged Sister and Brother are already there,
Ankle deep downstream of the constant eternal spring,
Lifting mossy stones, searching for pinchered treasure.
The shy little girl joins them, splishing and splashing
Ignoring their wrinkled brows and hot, flashing stares
Knowing that treasures may go, but will also return.

Soles gripping slimy stones, she lifts a plate-thin rock
Lazing stuporously beneath the blue-green veil.
And there! Treasure! Red-tipped pinchers raised high, it stares
Beady-eyed at her, daring her to make a move,
Daring her to attack—and she does, strikes boldly.
Small hand darting snake-quick, she snares the piqued treasure,
Flings it to the thirsty ground where water-things don’t tread.

Her spring eyes dancing, she charges to the bald bank,
Scoops up the crawdad, drops it in the gallon can
Among the other treasures there, plotting escape.

On the way back to the old, weathered house called home,
Brother and Sister praise the girl’s special treasure,
Eyes rolling, saying hers is the biggest of all.
The little girl smiles, imagines the pride that will
Shine on her mama’s tired but still beautiful face 
When the tale is told; and for that moment in time
Of summer in the South, all is right with the world.

©2021 KT Workman

(Note: Written in free verse, which does not contain rhymes, strict meter, or the use of repetition. It has varied meter, but can use loose iambic pentameter and cadence.)

Image by José Manuel de Laá from Pixabay

13 thoughts on “Summer Treasure

      1. Timothy Price

        It was rural when I grew up out here. I still have two acres on the Rio Grande. My parents originally had six acres that my grandfather and dad farmed, but after my grandfather died in 1964, my dad sold off an acre here and a couple of acres there. By the time I was a teenager and had some say, we were down to two acres. Corrales is still semi-rural, but the land is expensive and most new houses are big million dollar abodes.

        Liked by 2 people

        1. That’s nice to still have a part of your childhood home. I grew up on a primitive 180-acre farm/ranch, no indoor plumbing until I was around twelve. After my parents passed, my siblings and I agreed that it go to my brother who made his life out there. He cut checks to the rest of us for our share. It is still home, and I visit often.

          Liked by 2 people

          1. Timothy Price

            When my parents moved out here in 1958, the year I was born, there was no indoor plumbing. By the time I was old enough to remember anything, my dad had installed indoor plumbing. My grandfather converted an old goat shed into a small house we called the casita the he an my grandmother lived in. After he died, I spent a lot of time in the casita with my grandmother. She hated to be alone. I had all the original houses demolished in 2012. They didn’t have foundations and were slowly falling apart.

            Liked by 2 people

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