Childhood passes like a south-blowing summer shower.
In the thunder, my son and I dance circles under lacebark elms,
the spreading fronds allaying downpoured grace enough to bear.
Like shaken aspergilla, the little leaves flick and drip and bless us.
We spin, we whirl, we spring apart and fall together. Barefoot,
slick-handed; the not-quite mud, the sharp twigs, the pricking,
itchy grass. Dig in toes, leap and land, stumbling, on a rock.
I bless thick toddler feet, the torch of life zealous in him.
We share the same fine brown-blond hair, a slippery shade;
sun, age, season, transform it: light or dark, straight or wavy.
In this heavy-humid August twilight we wear banana curls.
He doesn’t care about his looks, but sings his favorite food
again, again: Banana, banana! Yes, my love, you may have it:
Joy of taste, remembered, looked for. That it is, you are, and together.
If I can hand you joy, I will: even buckets and barrels and bushels
of bananas. As many curls as raindrops. As much likeness as
allowed. As many days like this as we can beg, can bless, can bear.
LeighAnna Schesser’s work has appeared in Transcendence Magazine, Verse-Virtual, Synaesthesia Magazine, Kindred, and Rose Red Review. Her chapbook Heartland is forthcoming from Anchor & Plume Press in 2016. She earned her M.F.A. at North Carolina State University. LeighAnna lives in south-central Kansas with her husband, two children, half-wild garden, and many overstuffed bookshelves. She blogs at leighannaschesser.wordpress.com.