Flaming June
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 9, 2013
Flaming June
Picking peas for market is back-breaking work, especially at the age of eighty six. Marie was a widow, she always wore long skirts and her clothes were invariably black.Her weather-beaten face was deeply wrinkled and crows feet splayed from eyes as blue as the sea that lapped around the island of Jersey. She was wiry and wily with nimble fingers far quicker than my inexperienced hands, I lagged far behind her. Quick as a blink, Marie picked to put food on the table and I to buy a birthday present for father. I struggled to comprehend her conversation as she spoke the old Jersey-French patois, but today her old face lit up as she proffered a floral print bonnet like hers for my head. The poke shaded my eyes and layered frills at the nape protected my neck and shoulders. Only the old women wore traditional Jersey bonnets, but I accepted one gratefully.
a seat in shade
the damp earthy smell
of crack-willow
Thirty years later there were no traditional bonnets to be seen anywhere… even in the island’s museum. I asked if they had any Jersey bonnets? The curator lifted a dusty box from
a top shelf, full of similar dainty floral print bonnets, with a poke brim and generous frills at the back. My eyes brimmed with tears, the only black floral print… was Marie’s!
Full Honey Moon –
glitter on the sea, dances
upstream to me
from Poetry Zoo Abigael
Gael Bage
1 COMMENT
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Magda, where did you find such an apt picture, I think you are a female magician, a conjuror – simply magic !