by Susan Dion
You’ve thrown those dark weary work shoes
before the old cottage’s entrance door. A summer ritual.
Deliberately discarded, the muddied, masculine footwear
conveys an image of carelessness. But these are dual sentries
whose sole mission is to halt any troublemakers,
thieves, attackers, or worse,
remaining on duty both day and night,
providing a silent security system to
protect the indoors from the outdoors
men’s size 12 D, left and right
women’s size 7 vacationing inside.
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
Susan,
Wonderful evocation of Cape Cod as I knew it long, long ago. The wonder of poetry is its ability to re-connect old neural pathways and to transcend the particular to the universal. Yes, every reader has stayed as his or her own Cape. My memory …
summer on Cape Cod
Narragansett Lager Beer
lobster in the rough
Thank you for the connection,
Neal Whitman, The Poetry Prof
Susan, beautiful work!! Thank you for sharing. Beautiful site.
Tara (hugs and looking forward to January)
Susan, yet another precious expression through your own unique gift of creative writing! Kudos my friend!
Ah! You caught it just so to make a perfect poem. Thank you for letting me know where to find it.
Susan, You do it once again…evoking memories of summer amidst a northern Wisconsin snow storm. Thanks for sharing this site. Keep on writing….you do it so well.
Susan-it’s your oldest brother–nice work–I always saw those old boots at the front door of the cottage-I never could figure out why mom had them hanging around-I guess I thought she must have worn them somehow!