February 1, 2016 by margaretsmn
Photo by Robyn Hood Black
I am participating in Laura Shovan’s February poem-a-day challenge on writing to found objects.
Box
Tongue in groove he tells me
is how they used to do it,
before nails
before cardboard and glue.This old box
traveled over miles
snow-covered hills,
through the mountains, perhaps.I slide the wood
across grooves
breathe pine, spicy pipe tobacco,
remember my grandfather’sstories of the railroad,
how steam would rise above
houses and whistle
his way home.–Margaret Simon
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Our address on the Bayou Teche
<b>April</b>
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2 Kat @ Kathryn Apel
3 Kimberly @ KimberlyHutmacherWrites
4 Jone @ DeoWriter
5 Linda @ TeacherDance
6 Tara @ Going to Walden
7 Ruth @ thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown
8 Mary Lee @ A Year of Reading
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10 Janet F. @ Live Your Poem
11 Dani @ Doing the Work that Matters
12 Margaret @ Reflections on the Teche
13 Doraine @ Dori Reads
14 Christie @ Wondering and Wandering
15 Robyn @ Life on the Deckle Edge
16 Carol @ Beyond LiteracyLink
17 Amy @ The Poem Farm
18 Linda @ A Word Edgewise
19 Heidi @ my juicy little universe
20 Buffy @ Buffy’s Blog
21 Michelle @ Michelle Kogan
22 Catherine @ Reading to the Core
23 Penny @ a penny and her jots
24 Tabatha @ The Opposite of Indifference
25 Jan @ Bookseestudio
26 Linda @ Write Time
27 Sheila @ Sheila Renfro
28 Liz @ Elizabeth Steinglass
29 Irene @ Live Your Poem
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Beautiful, Margaret, love that you included that sliding panel. I have a little box like this, and they are made so well. And I love “whistle his way home”. Great ending.
What a history. I love the emotion invested in this poem about a box.