Avonlea Prince Edward Island breeze— my nod to every stranger on the road run-down orphanage— the sound of crying from somewhere inside cracked slate— my corrected spelling held up to the class green hair worse than red— the young girl’s pout haunted woods— out of breath at the farmhouse door smell of sea salt— the woods haunted by nothings amethyst brooch— the sermon quite forgotten yet again ice cream dripping off her chin— the girl with freckles morning at Green Gables— a cherry tree in bloom outside the open window great big field— saying a prayer to the blue blue sky beyond the moonlit orchard, spruce boughs tossing in the wind bright river— dust from the farm road settles on the spruce cows mooing in the distance— I let the class out early remembered in old age— my dream to live beside a shadowed brook fewer freckles now— sea breeze as it used to be on my cheeks the road turns where the brook and river meet— nodding birches checkered light— the bend in the road calls me on |