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
Feather....
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
2 comments:
handsome!
WOW! That child's poem is breathtaking. I must check her out........astonishing. I adore your poem, which weaves in some of the same beauties of Hilda's poem. Such expectation, in the awaiting of a return. Such sadness, now, no longer waiting. Agh. It gets me right in the throat! A beautiful, achingly poignant poem, my friend.
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