A STORM BREWING

A STORM BREWING

I don't what them to see me,
here beneath the side porch
where I hide when they skip rope -
play beneath a maple tree.
I know the big one, she stares
talks, soon she will point at me –
I’ll start to cry.
I never hurt her or pointed –
never asked her to play, she
would say no.

So what if she's bigger - she lives
right across the street; still stares
at me beneath her maple tree –
at me, under my steps.

It was normal, I kind of got use
to her until the day clouds
gathered above that tree, and
all the children skipping rope
stopped skipping. All the people
on sidewalks near my steps –
walked faster. . .

Why I wondered – staring up over
the tree. Then – the big girl yelled
over, “A tornado soon – you better
hide.” I thought she was teasing
me, but I did hide in storms. I was
petrified in storms. And last week
a storm tore roofs off houses, Daddy
he hid beneath a tree on the golf
course and Mommy yelled. I guess
no one should be near a tree.

The kids, they were standing beneath
the maple tree, and had to be telling
fibs. As the cloud grew darker, I
began to believe her – all the children
scattered, so I ran up the steps, opened
the screen door, and sank to the floor.

What to do? Mommy and Daddy
were shopping – what if the tornado
hit the store? I called information –
asked for the phone number,
dialed it, and asked to talk to my
parents.

I guess they called their name over
some load speaker. The woman told
me they paged them.
What was paged?
I only wanted to talk to them –
tell them about the storm.

Finally I heard them talk, as
they said, “Don’t worry.” Telling
me no storm was coming – I had
nothing to hide from.

Well – I never did tell them
about the big girl, who skipped
rope under the maple tree –
or me, crouched beneath our
yellow steps.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

A STORAGE GARAGE

A Storage Garage

Our yellow garage
a padlock – foggy windows
near yellow tulips growing
in our garden –

Told to stay away from
those foggy windows
I tried to sneak through
the flowers – tip toeing

Where was Grandma?
She wasn’t in the window
watching me play…
she would be yelling now

My shoes covered in mud
Grandmother watered every
morning.

What – exactly was kept
inside our garage?
What – exactly was kept
such a secret for a lifetime?

Asked Daddy why did you
own a garage - no one owned
a car – back then…

Heard grandfather once
kept bananas safe for the
fruitman, away from the
summers sun…

You told me –
and I remember.

You told me your father -
grandfather - had a job
working for a fruit company –
for the fruit men.

You told me –
and I remember.

But – you told me your
father – grandfather –
he was killed working –
for those fruit men…

You told me –
and I remember

The fruit men killed him -
Did your father –
grandfather –
destroy – all of his bananas?

Nancy Duci Denofio
All Rights Reserved

I Still See Grandmother Wave

I STILL SEE GRANDMOTHER WAVE

Her curtains always yellow
even in winter – she had to
see through them, through
glass – she had to know
everything going on below,
on Seneca Street – when
the street lamps turned on
and Father wasn’t inside –
that’s when buckets of
water were tossed from her
window with yellow curtains
over his head.

Her radiator hissed – and
her thumb curled – way back
and she would lick it as she
turned each page of her bible.
But, it was me – me sitting in
front of that radiator begging
for cookies from her cookie
jar – she continued to pray
aloud and still licked her thumb.

Today, I wish you were still
sitting, facing that window, still
breathing – still telling me to
read “John” from the “New
Testament.”

Instead, everything changed.
I seldom walk up the stairway –
I seldom gaze up to the window –
but every now and then –
I still see Grandmother wave.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

WHERE ANGELS FLEW BETWEEN THE TREES

“Where Angels Flew Between the Trees”

Angels gather there, above trees
behind my home – they told me so –
do you believe me?
do you see angels in my tree?

In the morning I stood barefoot
grass sneaking between toes
morning dew coats our home
our cellar door –

My feet wet – damp
I wiggle my toes – wait
wait for my turn to visit with angels
wondering if I too could fly?

Patience, as I brush back my hair
moistened by the morning dew
as the sun pops out between
a mountain in the distance
now closer to my time…

My eyes stare forward at the tree -
sparkles of light now flicker as
diamonds – yet - it could not compare
to what has entered my being –

A peace, a calm, a life beyond what
I left inside, now inside my heart –
my soul – and I wiggle my toes.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved