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Grey Sparrow Journal and Press, as of January 31, 2018 will move to

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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One Thousand Days of Summer

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, when fond recollections present them to view.    


                                                                                                                    -Samuel Woodworth



We were young and free as the sky

was blue, cliffs as high as heaven.


Skipping past buoys bobbing in a white-capped

bay, and spoke of running away each day.


My friend, fair and homely, had one trillion nickels and

a dime. I, dark and comely, had one penny and a rhyme.


Life moved slowly in our town by the sea—

those thousand days of summer.


We careened and chanted that childhood song—

Don’t step on a crack or you’ll break your mother’s back!


I stomped each crack carefully. She skipped

all cracks sheepishly, those thousand days


of summer by the sea. We warbled like marsh

wrens swaying on a cat-o'-nine-tails with glee.


Life moved slowly on that road by the sea—

those thousand days of summer by the sea.


We stole into our wee town, stealing

penny candy in the shop by the sea,


skipping toward home happily, until

I trilled, ‘Let’s runaway for eternity!’


Poor Deb wailed, ‘No,’ then ran home tearfully.

I laughed, making my way to the salt marsh,


studying crabs burrowing in mudflats’ gray.

By dusk, fireflies burned bright. By twilight,


my mum screamed banshee like, ‘Get your arse home,

you miserable shite.’ By midnight, I baulked,


‘Screw you mum for you’re a miserable gnome.’

(So, it is with children unloved and thus this poem).


                                           -Móna Theresa Lydon-Rochelle