Your Name

brings with it the low creak

of the gate that let you

into my backyard

on early Saturdays.

Dressed by your mother

in the white sailor shirt

with a blue collar, you

raced barefoot across

my overgrown yard,

climbed my magnolia tree,

spied on the neighbors,

and went home after we

could not find any more

lightning bugs for your jar--

a lantern for the dark walk home.

It's the first poem I remember writing. I even used it in my portfolio when I applied to grad schools last fall for Masters in Fine Arts for Poetry. I guess if it's possible (of course it is!) to have a lucky poem, that's what it is. So, I'm establishing this place (I feel like I'm going to get scared off if I use the term "blog") for my Saturday mornings.

It's been 10 years since the backyard years, but remember when Saturday mornings were the bees knees? You'd wake up at dawn, and go play with your brother in the yard, climb trees, draw in dirt with sticks, hide in the azalea bushes. However long it's been, I still get that rush on Saturday mornings--even when I'm hungover all day, giddy at the idea of staying in bed with an entire pizza in my lap, E! network on the TV, and a gallon of gatorade on the bedside table.

So, yeah, I'll post on regular days, too, but keep Saturday morning in mind. I'm about to go through a major transition. My dog, Hoka, and I are about to drive across the country and live in California for two years. I'm attending St. Mary's College of California, and I am astounded at how terrified I am to go to such a welcoming place. I am leaving Mississippi, the hospitality state, so I guess that makes sense.

This is my dream--writing all the time, constantly taking part in workshops. I'm following it. It sounds cheesy. Hell yes, it's cheesy. Remember the last scene of Slumdog Millionaire when he says (maybe she says it), "kiss me," and then they end the movie with a kiss? CHEEZ. But, it got best film at the Oscars, because when something is good, an inevitable amount of cheese is involved. Welcome to my cheese.