Trees
At a lakehouse in Brownsville owned
by my father’s company. It had a bow-limbed tree
we climbed easily. A gravel driveway
ground like bones beneath our soles.
And bunkbeds where we fought for the top.
Where my sister in the upper bunk stuck
a tape recorder out the window
into the branches during a lightning storm.
Next day she played it back and swore
there were angry voices whispering
in the tinny wind, made us listen
over and again until convinced. Angry
in that way a whisper can be louder
than a shout. The way mothers threaten
with their teeth set
together. We sat on the floor for hours
trying to decipher what they say.
More at We Write Poems
“A gravel driveway
ground like bones beneath our soles.”
This and so much of your detail, very contrasting and conjuring of feelings. Love the dark feeling throughout with the contrasting bright flashes of lightning, then later in the description of anger, more bright flashes. Very good.
Thank you Hannah!
My pleasure! 🙂
I remember how those gravel driveways felt under the soles of my shoes. In my case, it was Phoenix, and I was 8 years old, and it was me and Mom walking around, on a simple errand to the store, and me observing each palm tree as we passed.
As for the storm, it’s amazing what the mind can change ordinary sound into.
I love the way you paint the picture of the tree, of the storm, of the entire scene in very sensory ways.
-Nicole
Thank you Nicole!
You paint a realistic picture here, Cynthia. Nicely done to the prompt.
Pamela
Thanks Pamela!
As Hannah said, the contrast is very evocative… excellently done, to center on one nexus of memory and build so many different emotional moments around it.
Thanks Joseph!
Your observation about angry whispers is spot on!
Thank you Viv!
lovely…thanks for sharing
Thanks Wayne!
This is beautiful! I love the idea of listening to the storm in that manner. Wonderful!
Thank you!