Tomato Jam

tomato jam thick

with tangy lemon slices

brings back summer's warmth

The air hung heavy and thick at my grandparents' house.  The humid Illinois air held onto smells that never lingered in the arid air of my California home.  Their basement smelled musty, warm and damp from the wringer washing machine.  A basket under the laundry chute caught the toys and clothes we dropped down from the upstairs hallway; the basement aroma rising through the chute to greet us.  We tossed birdseed on the back lawn and caught fireflies in jars.  We baked sugar cookies, thin and crisp.  I have my grandma's recipe for those cookies -- and for the tomato jam we spread on toast for breakfast.

Thank you to Joseph Harker for the Reverie prompt on linking memories.  Also thanks to We Write Poems for the form (haibun) prompt.

Falling

This post is a haibun, which is a form that blends poetry and prose.  You can read more of them, and more about them, on Margo's prompt.


I was cantering in the arena -- balanced, smooth and relaxed.  Three strides before the corner, Jackson bucked.  Caught unaware and unprepared, I was tossed to the side of the saddle.  As I scrambled back up, the next buck lifted me further off balance.  I let go, pushing myself away from his shoulder and dropping to the ground.  The sand was hard.  It hurt.  Jackson slid to a confused stop and stared at me with questioning dark eyes.

You chose the other;

The wife and children, the known.

I let you go.

I have submitted this poem to The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic.  Check out the other submissions. 

And, thank you very much to the Poets Rally for this award!