I shall be coming back to you
From seas, rivers, sunny meadows,
Glens that hold secrets:
I shall come back with my hands full
Of light and flowers....
I shall bring back things I have picked up,
Traveling this road or the other,
Things found by the sea or in the pinewood.
There will be a pine-cone in my pocket,
Grains of pink sand between my fingers.
I shall tell you of a golden pheasant’s
Will you know me?
I glanced at the credit for this poem:
Hilda Conkling, Age 10, 1922
Age 10? OF course, I had to know more about this prodigy. I’ll confess that I’d never heard of Hilda Conkling before, or if I had, I’d forgotten about a person once described as “the most famous of all child poets in America.”
A Child Waits...A Woman Doesn't
when the question came up i was told you were traveling
seas, rivers and sunny meadows glens that hold secrets
i could imagine you there couldn't wait for your return
knew you would tell me all that you learned yes, it would be just like you
returning with your hands full of light and flowers you were always
the one with your hands full of things you picked up
traveling this road or the other things you picked up by the sea
star fish creamy white shells a green glass fisherman's float
a tiny pine-cone in your pocket grains of pink sand between your fingers
i wait to hear of the golden pheasant's feather tucked into the band of your hat
i a little girl then and it all seemed quiet plausible no longer a child
a woman now oh, that it would be true i no longer await your return
April 21, 2016