Antypocots

I have discovered two new loves today: fresh apricots and Montmartre. Today was a beee-yew-tee-ful day, and I was finally able to wear one of my sundresses! O, the joy good, clean sunshine and breezes un-laden with rain can bring!

Below is another old poem of mine that will be included  in the collection on which I'm currently working (along with "The day . . ." and "The Mango Tree"). It expresses the antithesis of today's weather.

Miasma

For a third of every year growing up, the sun was brown.

Harmattan would descend on the West African coast

as the Sahara reached her arms across grasslands

to dip her fingers in the sea.

She slipped past cracked windows

and squeezed through screens,

layering surfaces with a coarse film.

Nothing stayed clean for long.

In the middle of these days, I would squint

against gritty breezes, to see the sun squinting back.

Once the rains came, the sand ran down drains and out to sea

or sank into the mud, mixing the desert with cocoa soil and gold.

I would put on my swimsuit and stand under the carport,

watching the rain rinse the grime from my red tricycle.

I knew that when the rains stopped, I could look out my window,

and see a polished sun unrolling pearl-colored ribbon

onto bananas, ripe in the morning’s green.

Tonight the storms will come—with another sort of rain.

I’ll watch behind candles and sliding screen doors,

knowing that tomorrow’s sun will rise behind a haze.

- Emily Anne Decker (2009)

Disclaimer: (my vanity speaks)

I've been doing some re-reading of these posts, and I must insert a brief disclaimer about the numerous typos I've seen. I have become more adept at typing on a French keyboard (many key things, like the period and the 'a', are in different places - hehe, pun intended), but I still have to fix several typos at the end of each post. In re-reading, I see my editing skills are also on vacation a bit. Please forgive the errors; I shall try to fix them as I come across them.