JOY DAYS, BOY DAYS

by

Ronald G. Auguste

(For Guillaume, my father)

When I was young, my time was a parade
Of honey coloured days and purple nights,
Devoid of care, but pregnant with delights!
The buzz of brown bees browsing in the shade

Of frangipani made a sound to please
The coarsest ears. The murmur rose so sweet,
It seemed a soothing symphony complete
Upon the tropic air ... and with what ease,

And mystery of art, the humming birds
Performed their feats of sitting out the hours,
On boughs of wind before the gaudy flowers,
While I beheld in wonder, lost for words,

Searching my mind for intellect or sense
To comprehend that marvel! Being small,
I never really made the grade at all;
But other things provided recompense,

And soon made me forget: like running wild
With pals in hot savannas, playing games,
And at each other rudely shouting names
While getting lost in joy, till time beguiled

The lights away, and darkness fell like some
Black monstrous bird shot down while flying high
Across the bright cerulean void of sky,
And suddenly a billion stars would come!

A billion eyes admiring the moon
Tracking a rainbow made of hues unseen;
Diffusing gold upon the spangled green,
While warm winds made the grasses dance and swoon;

And crickets sang in intermittent notes;
And fireflies threw sequins in the park
Which glimmered on the velvet of the dark,
And bullfrogs cracked concertos in their throats.

These were the days, and those days were delight,
Spiced with the essence of exotic things.
Now, by myself, with boredom in the night,
I seek solace in what remembrance brings.

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by: Angela Bean
from: Stuarts Draft, VA, US

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