A Barefoot Day
It's hard to believe, but summer is just around the corner. The other day, I read that June 1st is National Barefoot Day, which reminded me of a children's poem I had written years ago, entitled, unsurprisingly, A BAREFOOT DAY. So, I opened the ol' proverbial writings' vault, blew the dust off the old yellowed pages and thought I'd share it with you. Originally, I had planned to turn it into a children's picture book, but the universe had other plans for me, specifically, moving on to adult southern fiction novels.
So, as those watermelon seed-spewing days approach, may this put you into that right frame of mind for kicking off your shoes, swinging in a hammock beneath a sun-dappled shade tree, and allowing life to just spin on without you for a quiet while.
Happy summer, friends!
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A Barefoot Day
The month of June can’t come too soon
For summer days begin.
This time of year shoes disappear.
It’s barefoot days again!
Today it’s warm. It starts to storm.
We play a game of cards.
We watch the wind make branches bend,
And laundry fly in yards.
The rain moves past, it doesn’t last.
We’re off the porch to play.
Scattered around, puddles are found.
I love a mud-pie day!
We’re in luck! It’s the ice cream truck!
I get a chocolate shake.
Off we race to McGregor’s Place.
We’ll cool off in his lake.
I slowly float, just like a boat.
And then I hear a shout;
“A great big snake is in the lake!”
I’m fast at getting out!
Callie’s dog disturbs a log.
A skunk hides in its shade.
“Pewww! He SMELLS! Callie yells,
And then we call get sprayed!
I get the hose to rinse our clothes.
The dog is trying to hide.
He smells the worst! He’ll get washed first.
He’ll have to sleep outside.
Mrs. Simmons gives us lemons.
We’ll sell some lemonade!
A dime a cup, folks drink it up.
Sure wish the flies had paid!
Clackety-clack! The train is back!
We race along its side.
The train slows down when it’s in town.
I’d love to take a ride!
The sun dips low. It’s time to go.
We’ll eat our supper soon.
The street turns bright as street lamps light,
And also from the moon.
Noisy crickets wake in thickets.
Mosquitoes start to hum.
We watch the skies for fireflies.
They know the night has come.
The screen door squeaks and Mama speaks;
“Wash up! There’s beef pot pie.”
I smell the cake she said she’d bake.
These barefoot days fly by.