Summer Reruns

(note: the local pay newspaper addison independent [but dependent on gaz ads] has commenters like myself on their online version. we commenters are forced to regulate our own tongues, surprised me that they do not moderate the comments. commenter anonymity adds another layer of confusion. anonymous or fictitiously named people reply to my honest, out there, using my name anti fracking commentary. They reply with negative thoughts about me or my beliefs or my speaking up is unbecoming or what i write makes them go daff, then they read more. is it my fault when they go daff from reading my fr*ckin' comments? The lowest blow, was one of them saying i could not be a poet. I can say now, weathered by peoples' hateful rants, it really did not bother me. which all led me to rerun this poem, one of my favorites, each time i post it, it gains new meanings. were they there all along? meg)

Summer reruns

A rerun of one of my favorites.

Summer memories are warm and sweet. I wanted to share a poem even while fearing once I let it out I will be unable to ever outdo it in feeling and depth of myself immersed therein.


Coyote Night by Mary Gerdt * 2008 all rights reserved
When we walk down a road in the dark,
And the Coyotes are crying their mournful cry,
The smells of summer drift and hang in the valley
And little night birds chirp goodnight.
The stars peek out from the clouds of August mist
The moon hangs over the hills by home.
My memories fade to days gone by
When we looked at the nights from inside.
Now we walk on the path outside
Not afraid anymore.
While the coyotes cry.