Mom and Dad harvested the green apples
and then took down the tangled trees—
the apricot trees, too,
as they were dying.
But the lilacs still bloomed prettily
across the fence line
in our backyard
May to June.
In summer, Dad made a target
behind the garage
for me to work on my softball aim.
He always said I had
a good arm after that.
At Christmas, Luke gave me
a lilac blossom candle
(even his name means light-giving),
and baseball’s Spring Training is soon to start
here in the desert.
All this to say, if tattoos
came in scents, I’d get some.
Green apple, lilac,
old leather softball glove.
Little gifts lingering long upon my skin—
bright sparks of memory,
lit candles, shining always,
even in my dark.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
I love this. ♡ What a tempting concept --- scratch-n-sniff bodies.
ReplyDeleteIndeed :-)
DeleteBaseball (and softball of course) are good for the soul, as are the scents of fruit trees and lilac bushes.
ReplyDeleteMy father had made just such a target on our garage wall for my older brother(s) and I used to throw at it sometimes long after they had gone off to college. My mother used to complain that my friends and I were making bare spots in the back lawn where our bases were. When she saw fun she put a stop to it, sour old thing.
So true, they are indeed. We have a lot in common, Shay. I let my kids play ball in the house (actually, I played with them ;-D). What's a little broken stuff when there's fun to be had!
Delete