Poem  by Amy Barry

 

 

The Trampoline     

 

I jumped, my head

held high eyeing horizons,

my knees wrapped tightly

against my chest,

smelling the sweetness of

Moynure fresh air.

 

There in the distance

past the stone wall,

stood my neighbour’s white gable,

rising to the blue skyline and

balconies covered with pots

of bright flowers.

 

Across the road,

Marie staring at the people passing by,

nodding every now and then,

her long skirt fluttering in the breeze.

And for just this moment,

Paul’s horse galloping

in a cleared field

in slow motion.

 

Where the tall branches leaned,

frowning at a familiar presence,

the bright green algae,

that gripped my roof,

that needed cleaning.

And I landed one last time,

gently surrendering into calm.

 

Gazing at the sky until

the layers of blue turned pink,

reminding myself,

I had an entire summer

to get to know him.

 

@First published in Southword journal