Screen door

I see the screen door
and the front porch
and the steps leading past
potted geraniums
sitting on weathered floor boards.
For it’s an ancient house,
there forever by the marsh.

That screen door has slammed shut on
countless evenings of children
who rushed out into
the large front yard,
after supper was hurriedly done,
for another hour
of adventure and play,
in joyful abandonment.
Let loose in
fields of imagination —
Childhood.

And as I drove by
the empty house and yard,
I saw time immemorial
in that weathered, rusty screen door.

But from a distance,
as I passed by in my car,
I set it free again
with one quick glance.

Ah, lovely, lovely–if only old houses could tell stories–but they do, and you listened, and transcribed it for us–thank you–

Wonderful mt freind!!! Blessed Be!!

I love it when you write poetry, Oswego, it is always beautiful, meaningful and serene. You are such a gift to us. Love,

Sadly beautiful, dear Oswego. You are quite simply spoken – a wonderful weaver of words. I have always appreciated the care and love you place on these pages.* Re: your note – no mystery – just silly play

with the spelling/character name of a “screenplay” from another diarist – me being Alexa Angle. 🙂 NO, that really ISN’T me 🙂 I favor an older Carol Ardvaark, actually…:)Play does brighten the day.

the play is on kalestramuse od pages…and i did a webpage on the first part….still in the making..info on my page….

your poetry speaks volumns….such a vision…thank you

Bramble

September 3, 2000

Well done. As soon as I saw the words “screen door” I was on my way to another time.

This was especially good..all of it. I did like the “set it free’ line a lot, though! Beautifully composed..Thank you..Cait..

You make me feel that special athmosphere of an empty house. And imagining who have lived there. You are sure a master with words my friend

This took me straight back to my grandparent’s house – “And don’t slam the…” too late, WHAM! As one child or another rockets off the porch, coins in hand, to catch the ice cream truck. Happy memories, these.

I could hear the Clap! of that old screen door as I read your words. My parents had one with a little contraption to make it close slowly and silently. Just isn’t the same for a good memory.

Terrific, evocative writing.

I miss you.

You seem haunted by anything abandoned. I am too. I want the houses, and the memories, and the children, to remain there forever, never growing older, just caught in a beautiful evening, living and loving. Love,

The vibes that some places give, and the images that they create for us about time gone by has always fascinated me. Some places draw us in, and others – sometimes quite attractive, revulse us. Interesting.

🙂 aaaaah the good old days!!

very, very nice…wouldn’t it be something if houses, trees and even the land could tell all the stories they hold deep within…

The bookstore/cafe in Fairhaven is the Colophon Cafe, owned by a friend named Taimi and her husband. We worked together at an art gallery while I went to college at Western. The Colophon is wonderful!

it is my summer

well thank you

the computer

Very well done…

You paint such wonderful pictures for us. Sometimes those memories of childhood joys can hurt just a bit. Like a kind of parting. Gee, I’m really deep this morning.