It's June, 1967.
Nature, still lying through
Parsley green teeth,
Breathes the last of spring,
Hints early summer warmth,
Pre-July's cicada whine,
August's heat and wind.

Crops, still tender green
Quiver beneath a humid sky,
Under a glowing sun.

Bicycles amuse our early lust
To soar untraveled ground,
Entering lazy summer's ennui,
We scan a hawk riding drafts
On the edge of our hill.

Dust, drifting up the graveled road,
Five miles below us,
Piques our interest,
Causes the dog to raise his head.
He ***** an ear
Toward a sound we cannot hear.

We hear gravel slapping rocker panels
Before the traveler's roof rises into view,
Catch our breath as the engine slows,
Start running for the house.

A stranger's arrived,
A traveling salesman,
Better than an aunt
Only stopping in for tea
And woman talk.

Dad keeps his welding helmet down,
Repairing broken things.
The hired man inhales his cigarette,
Acts disinterested.

My memories linger on the past....

Salesmen brought the latest farming gadgets:
Additives for fuel and oil,
Battery life extenders,
Grain elevators and fencing tools,
Produce and livestock products,
Lightning rods and roofing,
Chrome-edged cultivator shovels,
Insurance for everything:
Fire, water, wind, hail.

Pitches came without exception:

"Top o' the morning! Looks like you're busy.
Don't want to take your time."

"Looks like you could use some welding rod,
And I have something new for you to try."

"Have you used chromium additive in you livestock salt?
Guaranteed to put on weight and protect from bovine
Tuberculosis!"

"Say, have you heard about the effectiveness of a new
Insecticide called DDT? I've got a sample gallon here
For you to try. Works better than Malathion!"

Dad, eventually intrigued, began the slow dance
Of dickering, haggling over this thing or that.
Most salesmen, closing in for a ****,
Hadn't grappled with my father.

At noon, deals still in the air,
My mother called the men,
And we all trudged in to wash,
Waiting in line at the tub,
Scrubbing with powdered Tide
To remove the grime and grease,
Drying on the darkening towel,
Finding a seat at the table.

The salesmen expected the meal
As though it were their right,
A standing invitation:
Stop in at noon,
Make your pitch,
Sit at table,
Close the deal after.

We boys sat and listened
To man talk.
Eyes wide, we marveled
At gadgets,
Wondered at Dad's parleying,
Winced at the deals he drove,
Commiserated with squirming salesmen
Surely made destitute by Dad's hard bargaining.

In retrospect,
I know the game was played
On two sides,
That the battery additives
Bought for five dollars a packet,
Even with the two Dad finagled free,
Cost about five dollars for everything,
Returned forty-five and change
To the smirking, full-bellied salesman
Who left a cloud of dust on his way
To supper a few miles down the road.

I don’t care how
or care what you do
to make it happen;
I just told you
make me shine
so slather me in turpentine.

I want the sun to shrink
and the world turn dark,
when she’ll no longer rise
after she rests her eyes
upon my fiery spark.

I want the moon to swoon
and raise the tides
when he looks for the sun,
but instead
it’s my beauty that he finds.

I want the stars to bow down
and shower me in gold
when I shine brighter
and reach higher
than the stars of old.

I want storms to make
the world stir
when I walk upon
their earth,
no matter what it’ll take.

I don’t care
if it kills me;
just answer my plea.
I just want, so badly,
to shine,
so slather me in turpentine.

There in FarBliss,
the land fed by dreams
where nothing poofs amiss,
there are sauntering ThinkSees:

-the children of ValleySeeps
who sip, sip, sip grins
from the sad, sad, sad streams
they call TearsTearsWeSeizeSeize.

In River ByeYou, they snare SighWoeWoo
and like to bathe in the sea LonelyBlue.
How they climb the hazy Mount NothingTrue,
to pray the dour deity NothingButYou!

When they play,
they chase FireFlies
on the wings of ButterRhymes;
they skim the gleaming ImagePools,
under the bright moon LadyMoves,
then plunge into the lost lake LetLoose.

Their day-flight’s a FeatheryFrenzy
on a gull’s SillySyllableSpree;
to catch the lofty eagle HearMe,
they test the terrible talons TearMe.

They labor behind the FathomFalls,
spinning FrothyMusic from TumblingBoughs
mulling melancholy in MoonlessGroves;

or, spin HeartStrings for all groans and grins,
dip them deep in dye in dongs and dings,
darning dreams by star-sipping streams,
struming the strings Nothing'sAsItSeems.

When the digy-dongy nights come
and you hear HeartyLonelyChime,
seize the sizzle of the time
and let it loose in your rhyme;

‘cause like Time, FireFlies.

©️Hirondelle (01/12/2018)

I hid my true love in
graveyard dirt
under the white willow
catching the coy wind

they said my words had to
sound sweet as ****** breath
to lure him to my *******

I had to bring my  
lover thru the fire
as death was my cupid

We were uncertain
ghosts caught between
time and space
caged by blue moon
dreams and pretty
things that haunt
thru the night