Skip to main content

Drive/Dream

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #241.


I only daydream when you're driving
I am the flood of memory
When the guilt gets rocked to sleep
I pop the bubbling thought
Jarred from the dark, familiar street

Waiting impatiently on the seeds that will begin to repair a backyard scoured by a hard freeze without frost. Hoping that the Mouse Melon Tower will produce many melons (good with avocado) and that we'll have cucumber salad throughout the summer. We're also going to try for moonflowers and tiny white pumpkins on the skeleton of an old patio umbrella (which would be really cool but the moonflowers didn't come up last year and squash are always trouble here so...) and yet more squash around the plant stand. 

Hope you're having a great start to the new year!

-- Chrissa

Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornJanuary 7, 2023 at 12:06 PM

    The flood of memory hits when you are either settled to rest or faced with the familiar things. I love this Chrissa, such soft and beautiful lines. Yes, that freeze really did a number on our yard too. Happy New Year my friend!

    ReplyDelete
  2. JimJanuary 7, 2023 at 2:37 PM

    The memories we have are mostly of good times or the bad. Humdrums don't count.
    When my passenger daydreams she tries to get me involved, tries to talk into the
    ear she has worn out. We had your freeze, I'm glad we didn't replant then or it would
    all be ruined now. Freezes are kind of like having the COVID, repercussions linger.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  3. FireblossomJanuary 8, 2023 at 5:17 AM

    Happy New Year, Chrissa! I like your evocative short poem. Best wishes for a beautiful garden comingupo later!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Sherry Blue SkyJanuary 8, 2023 at 11:29 AM

    I love "I only daydream when you're driving". And the garden talk revives my old gardener spirit, though these days my "garden" is only potted plants.

    ReplyDelete
  5. TruedessaJanuary 8, 2023 at 3:32 PM

    Happy New Year! Sometimes, I wish the flood of memories would have better timing.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Gillena CoxJanuary 8, 2023 at 5:09 PM

    "I pop the bubbling thought"
    Luv this expression.
    Best Wishes for 2023.

    Much❤love

    ReplyDelete
  7. Susie ClevengerJanuary 10, 2023 at 2:45 PM

    Love this, I too daydream while my husband drives...so many things can travel the mind while the highway hums. Beautiful poem

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Turn Away

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the  pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm.  Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story.  Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in...
15 comments
Read more

Treacle Season

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #190 ,  hosted this week by Carrie. Keaton was great in that show—the one with wings— Where he was constantly a [man]child on a ledge  dreaming an angel who became a superhero.   She was a sarcastic (fake?) angel—it was the 80s— But always good, on time, her lessons easy, Easy as it would have been for him to fall.   The metaphor so obvious...but I didn't get it. Nor the easy and obvious good. (/s)   I watch the TV movie every other December Remembering believing in easy And crushing on this character, that city...   Angels should be sweet, sarcastic figures, knowing (like nurses and social workers) we prefer Sleeping on the ledge, reckless to call for "heroes." To clear up any confusion:  there is no Michael Keaton movie we watch every holiday season. Although, if there were...I'd probably watch it.  -- Chrissa
16 comments
Read more

The Soul and The Spine

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #195 . Come and share! When it blew out the candle, It began to speak, voice low,  eyes dimmer than flame. Jenn believed, once upon a childhood (she's still there... but it's waning), it inhaled fire. Spines, tonight. Gears ladder bones and metal and plastic, all that lived, rungs to heaven. Heaven is a level of space where you can't breathe  so they used to send the dead. When the flame goes, it takes our memories with it. But not bot files. Maybe it believes  she'll sleep easier if bots go breathless, too. It continues murmuring and she pretends she's hearing a confession in a box Like the song her mother plays when the dark stretches  between signals We can handle shocks. She can handle the dark, the small  not-flame of its eyes. It's finally winter!! Which means bitmapped frost on the roofs, cold mornings, and a table full of succulents that are pretty much glaring at me because the kitchen window isn't the same as full su...
14 comments
Read more