Kay T. Fields
Bio Note: I am a retired lady with a varied list of interests. Poetry is my first love, and I have published mainly poetry. My memoir, Godsmacked: A Memoir of Mania, Mayhem and Mischief was published in 2021 by Bambaz Press. My day is spent juggling time with my four-year-old Yorkie, Victoria, swimming, cooking and going for car rides with Victoria. She loves these outings as long as they don't end at the vet or groomers.
Home by Dark
Cataracts realign reality in evening’s fading light. A pleasant obscurity overtakes familiar sights as twilight dims daytime’s harsh edges. Catula, the yellow barn cat slithers through gray shadows, becomes a petite, fire-breathing dragon with a tail that twitches at the slightest sound. A rusted bicycle with a banana seat askew precariously leans against the shed awaiting a lad who has matured, now preferring muscle cars, and girls with loose morals. Good sense knows it's just random junk, but near darkness and blurred vision allow it to appear as a smoking- hot Harley ridden by a curly-haired-Brylcreemed- bad boy with a cigarette arrogantly stuck to his lower lip. I remember when home-by-dark meant an end to summer’s daytime magic, supper was served with sliced tomatoes, squash, okra corn, peas, and all the garden’s glory followed by watermelon, nectarines or sticky, sweet popsicles. Plump with youthful possibility, we ran barefoot, legs welted red and raw with chigger bites, until our sides became stitched, our breath in labored gasps, we were stinky, sweaty, but oblivious to heat or humidity. We cavorted like spring colts. Home-by-dark meant balancing on a razor-thin tightrope of time, gambling on our fleet feet to outrun the fading light. We believed in our own invincibility, and that we’d slam the screen door before darkness fell, and night terrors swallowed us into that cavernous belly of the whale.
©2022 Kay T. Fields
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