by Joanna Gilman Hyde

It was a lawn I mowed

in a peach bikini

when I was sixteen

now covered over with blackberry brambles

thigh high

up to the open front door

no longer entered

It was My Grandparents’ summer house

yellow & white

with yellow & orange roses climbing

with nasturtiums on the entry deck

vegetable garden by the sea

where parsley grew

& where My Grandmother sent Me

to pick a few sprigs for Our Supper

on The Sun Porch