Summer With Black-Eyed Peas
Summer With Black-Eyed Peas belongs to the following groups:
All Things Poetic, Artistic, PhilosophicalIt’s hot
and the ice picks come out
with the rock salt. People
too poor to drive cars
sit on their steps and crank out
peach ice cream. They talk about
watermelon pickle, how’s that foot
healing? when’s the packinghouse
taking on more help?
It’s hot.
Along the irrigation ditch
small burrowing owls soak up
the sounds of late afternoon
and sharpen their talons.
Near dusk
the kids peel to their skivvies
and wade in. Later they’ll gig for frogs.
The owls tuck back in their dark
cool holes and wait for the leavings.
It’s too hot
to think or coil up the green hose
spalling in the dirt. Crickets
have choked the window fan. Still,
the new couple next door
is at it again; their lovemaking
rocks the trailer. We screw
our rabbit ears back and forth
to clear the Channel 10 snow;
turn the sound down to listen
to the heat, to the land rich with mice
and owls; listen for breezes to swipe
through pea fields wobbly with seed.
To cool us.
- – - – - – - – - -
Spillway, 2002
bellmusker
How gorgeous this is….such richly descriptive writing that for a few moments my cold little flat with rain lashing the windows felt almost as sultry as the scene you describe. Lovely work.
Billie Dee replied
Many thanks bellmusker! This poem is one of my favorites; I’m happy you enjoyed the heat of the poem.
I was part of a project studying politically disenfrangised farm workers, so I got to know some of these families pretty well. The hand-cranked peach ice cream is one of my favorite memories.
Billie