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