Today I have two poems to share, the first one is a little haiku for a June morning.
A June Morning
read by the author
Warm yellow sunlight
deep green shadows, light soft breeze
|a sweet June morning.
Copyright ©2017 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
So, happy June!
My second poem is Bridal Wreath.
Bridal Wreath
Blooming in drifts so dense and tall they hide the entire porch
The bridal wreath greets the May bride
Though she first crossed the threshold decades ago when the shrubs were new,
And placed a vase of the blossoms on her first dinner table,
Has since raised her children,
Lost a son in Viet Nam
And a husband to cancer,
Her daughters moved off
And she is a grandmother and a great-grandmother
Through it all the bridal wreath unfailingly welcomed her in the morning every May
In the neighborhood lined with large, neat family homes.
Now the paint is peeling,
Drawn window shades hang in tatters
The bride herself is gone,
Her home the only one remaining on this dusty deserted block
Yet the bridal wreath blooms as fervently as ever this May
Remembering her.
Copyright ©2009 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
The bridal wreath has been blooming around so many of the older houses in town. Bridal wreath is an old-fashioned shrub, blooming from mid-May to early June in waves of snowy white blossoms, then returns to a nice, quiet dark green bush.
I read this poem initially at my 2009 poetry reading, “Change of Season”, soon after I’d written it. I read it again at “In This Valley”, my 2011 poetry reading to celebrate the borough of Carnegie’s 120th birthday, since I felt it was one of those poems that had described life in this town for many, both those mentioned in the poem, and especially my memories of the neighborhoods when I was little. Every house had bridal wreath spirea growing in front, and everyone was immensely proud of it when it bloomed. Cuttings and small shrubs for planting were given to young married couples who’d purchased a new home. As I read, I was surprised to see heads nodding in agreement and smiles. It was familiar to us all.
This poem was inspired by an actual home. Because the bridal wreath blooms at this time of year and because the life of the bride I mention are deeply touched by wars, I keep this poem for that time around Mothers’ Day and Memorial Day.
Below is the actual home that inspired this poem. Nothing special about it except that it is the only family home left in what had been a block of these homes, and it’s fenced off because it was shortly thereafter bulldozed for the CVS that now stands there.
Thank you for listening.
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