An anthology of Mississippi writers by Philip L. Levin & Grace B. Lebo
Tupelo Summer
Saturday mornings, in Tupelo,
child dreams remembered, in a Southern heart.
The earth, warming with the morning sun
and bursting with the summer smells
of honeysuckle and hedgerows.
Spring Street;
smells of fertilizers and hard wares permeate the air.
This yearβs seeds in bins in a dusty window,
bags of roasted peanuts alongside axes
and dusty new boots.
Across from the Jeff Davis hotel,
old men in overalls, wrinkled and tan,
dot the courthouse benches ...
leaning on their canes as they spit tobacco juice
toward the sidewalk
and spin wondrous stories;
their weathered eyes starring at passing beauties.
A crisp June sky, azure blue,
I follow Mother's freshly ironed print dress
and nice soapy scent into the corner drug store.
Our Saturday treat drugstore hotdogs,
still unsurpassed in my memory.
Slim paper straws dipped into tall
ice-cold glasses of Coca-Cola . . .
Sweat beading on the glass from the summer humidity,
leaving lazy pools on the countertop,
a sure sign of rain.
Sitting on the tall red leather stools at the counter,
remembering the feel of the cool stainless metal
as I climbed down to explore the latest comic books
or school supplies.
A sleepy bus ride home with
all the curious people
and their Saturday dreams,
their colors still so vivid . . .
after all these years.
Joyce Burns
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