We arrive at the Notch Squad tent. Alison, a stocky, twenty-something woman smiles and greets us. A few moments later, she moves all of us—a handful of kids and parents—to Rigabello’s, since camp is on thunder watch. Only the building is locked. Huddled under a yawning as the rain pours, I ask, “Alright, who hasn’t been caught breaking and entering?” Amidst nervous laughter, one smiling teen raises his hand.
seated in the dark …
a mountain monsoon
a singing skylark
Steady rain the feeling of our skin
An early afternoon lounging on the deck. The rain stops, clouds drift over Mansfield, while more birds sing from the soaked treetops. We, with our poetry and memoir, become the “silent readers” of her past.
dangling drops underneath
The vintage cheese from Cabot: a sharp, sour eruption of delight, as I take the first bite with fresh prosciutto. Mira made a cheese platter for us: Cabot vintage, Spanish, goat and bree; prosciutto, salami, and spicy sausage; with Greek olives as a bitter palate cleanser, and White Zinfandel to wash it down. We feast like Pericles and Aspasia, awaiting the musicians and bards to complete our Mediterranean repast.
bite of dark chocolate forgotten poetry on sunlit pages
turning point Frankie arrives home on his own
The clouds part. Sunlight bathes the deck from the west. Frankie eats his leftover burrito, then some sliced cheese and sausage that his mother prepares. His Agatha Christie Novel (Murder on the Orient Express), one of his summer reading assignments that’s taken him half the summer, rests beside the cheese. Our window for enjoying the outdoors suddenly closes. A fresh barrage of rain, accompanied by lightening, closes in. Chili, Ben and Jerry’s and Iron Man close out our second evening.
nightfall leaves rustling in the rain
first published in Image Curve, April 11, 2019
WD April PAD 2019 11/30