
Piece #4: The One That Includes Synesthesia
He can hear his mother, Ida, from all the way down here, calling him for dinner, not because itās a short distance from home, but rather itās Ida’s tin-roof-steep-pitched voice and two-fingered whistle nagging after him into the gully. Into the deepness of trees and a green-weave of leaves. Summer heat never finds him down this far. Itās cool, lush with watercress and fiddlehead ferns, and when you push aside all this green there’s a small bubbling gulp of a sulphurous spring that scents the air with rotten eggs and pongy toes. And every time his mother boils up eggs, and that same pongy smell fills the air, he sees cool shades of green shadows again. Gully-green hard-cooked eggs. HeĀ learned later that his mum’s eggs are green because theyāreĀ mercilessly overcooked.
Green shadows
A childās memory
Framed gold
Poetic Form: Haibun. This is Piece Four (draft) of a multi-part project. The concept was originally created by Jim Simmerman, entitled āTwenty Little Poetry Projectsā. Photo byĀ hannah graceĀ onĀ Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter Ā Ā©Misky 2021
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