Robert Byrns

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Quintessential East Texas August

Earth cracking hot, dusty,
Cicada stillness.
Desolated until farm house.
Sign: WATERMELLONS
AHEAD, SEEDLESS'

Two young children, one of each.
Under a shade tree, a 'make do' stand.
Smiling, waving, waiting, hoping.
Sparse traffic on FM 1677.
Have they sold any?

Slowing, still too fast, wave.
Feeling their rejection inside.
Few seconds, way down the road.
Too far to turn around?
And miss those smiles, the joy?

Never too late to feel happiness.
No choice, quick U-turn.
Bright sun-tanned faces, smiling.
' What would you like? '
Which are the best?

'The dark green ones the sweetest'
The stripped ones, yellow 'meat'.
'Both seedless'.
How much? 'Two dollars each'.
One of each but how know if ripe?

The girl, the younger: ' I know how! '
Thump, thump, thump on each.
The third melon: 'This one! '
Repeating the ritual, thumping each,
Until 'the one' sounds right.

The melons four dollars;
The smiles priceless.

How often in life can four dollars bring
Such satisfaction, sense of pride?
How often do we drive past opportunities,
To give simple pleasures to others and to self?

With melons in arms, a lump in the throat,
A gentle breeze.
East Texas August did not seem so cruel.



To Jim, August 8th 2015

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