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Array
(
[sid] => 147945
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => a perfect day
[time] => 2009-02-13 16:14:57
[hometext] => life as it should be
[bodytext] => What’s not to like for a boy on a summer’s day. A warm breeze, blue sky filled with clouds of all shapes. Enough shapes to insure a boy’s imagination will hold sway. Strolling tween fences half stone, half wire, down a country lane. Pasture on one side, ripe, golden wheat swaying on the other; 8 years old & feeling like the king of this Kansas plain. Lane meandering across the rolling prairie goes. The lane’s ruts filled with soft pools of hot dust, that stepped in just right, geysers up between brown bare toes. Shoeless, shirtless, tasseled hair burned blonde by the sun, down the hill to the small stream looking forward to the shade. Toward cool cottonwood shade, & a rill meant for fun. A jar for bugs, one for tadpoles, listening to buzz of dragon flies. Bare feet in water, quiet, just him & the roly polys & lady bugs. In dappled light searching the shallow stream for his prize. With his captures in his jars, he leaves these shady places, going up the hill watching the golden yellow of the sunflowers, as they turn and follow the sun with their faces. Grabbing a handful of wheat grain, Rubbing the chaff off, and popping it in his mouth, Dad says its like chewing gum, but he doesn’t think it’s the same. Lightning bugs light the eve, adding their glow to setting sun, Making one wish for one more jar to fill. Being 8 in the country, nothing could be better for this one. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 43 [informant] => gmcse8 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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