LANGUAGE

Photo by Gabrielle Johnson (ChasingHorizons)

A Poem by Henrietta DuCap

“Yellow!” She yells,

leaning to the weeds,

one last dandelion

a pat of butter

among seeded-out

stalks. We watch

the bees pack their thighs

with the dust of new blooms.

“Nice bees,” she breathes,

their buzzing becoming

a summer lullaby.

“Rainin’!” she runs,

red curls already dripping

with the cooling water.

Drops collect in the sidewalk’s

wells, watering weeds.

Ripples shift

around her ruffled shorts

with the force

of her splashing.

“Love Mama,” she says

through the phone,

as I drive home—

and my heart turns to

a berry-red puddle,

the melting popsicle we shared

when it was ninety-three.

And at once the strawberry taste,

the bees’ humming, the

shock of the cool drops

and baby talk

meet to teach me

a single word:

Lavished.

---

Henrietta DuCap earned her B. A. in Creative Writing. Her poetry has been published in Ekstasis, Vessels of Light, The Way Back to Ourselves, Solid Food Press and more.. She lives in Lansing, Michigan with her husband and baby girl, and her middle-grade historical fiction novella is forthcoming next year!