It's Still Life

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 it’s a short distance from home, but rather it’s 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. It’s 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. He  learned later that his mum’s eggs are green because they’re  mercilessly overcooked.

Green shadows
A child’s 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 “Twenty Little Poetry Projects”. Photo by hannah grace on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021