CATCHING UP WITH SPRING
I am not so old that childhood memories return
of people and places that time has hidden
but now reveals with a sleight of hand.
Lost, long gone and suddenly back again
with piercing clarity - people, places, smells.
But this September I have been assailed
by spring after a wasteland of years.
As if the world turning on its axis has
shifted to a degree of decades and let loose
a syllabus of spring drenched smells -
jasmine, wattle and a white starred tree
that my grandmother would have known
the name of, all mingle to be more than
the sum of their parts, unidentifiable
except as time and spring and
the coming heat of summer.
I’m halter-necked dressed and sniffing the air.
It’s lighter earlier now before we thought
of daylight saving. How do you save such a
thing as light? But only rejoice as the sun slowly
gives us more time each day. Wattle the sun in
miniature, some years blazing, some years pale
and still the smell lingers, redolent of yellow.
Spring is not far away and the boy you like
is smiling as you walk past the garage
where he works. And a decade before jasmine
flowers on the back fence as you run away
from your mother’s voice - Don’t be back
late for dinner. It’s Spaghetti Bolognese.
I remember my grandmother’s hydrangeas,
roses and as a grandmother now I have chocolate
cosmos, violas, salvia, geraniums, sweet pea,
autumn crocus. Spring is a syllabus of smells with
summer presaging on the wind. What is in the air?
What will time let drift towards me?
Debbie Robson is the author of Tomaree, a WW2 novel and Crossing Paths: the BookCrossing novel inspired by www.bookcrossing.com. She loves to write fiction set in the first sixty years of the last century. She also writes poetry and has performed her poems in Sydney, the Blue Mountains and Newcastle.