Some things might be too ideal even in a poem
by Larry D. Thacker
I’ve tried to time when I check each summer.
You might think with these trees being so close
to my place, just up the road, that I’d stand a better
chance finding paw paws. Surely town is full
of the trees, but these are the only ones I know.
I imagine my grandfather having planted them.
Tossing the seeds from the car window on a drive,
eating a few from his own trees, unsuspecting
his grandson would live a block down the road
decades later, think on him when noticing those
broad and familiar leaves. That memorized scent.
As much as I’ve tried, I haven’t found any ripe.
It would be easy to not try very hard, to imagine
some spell would break were I to find one, ready,
and taste the connection again, to his trees, the fruit,
his hand to planting, new trees through the years.
The idea of it seems just too wonderful of a reunion.
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found in over a hundred publications, including The Still Journal, American Journal of Poetry, Poetry South, Spillway, Tower Poetry Society, Mad River Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Town Creek Poetry and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia and the poetry books Voice Hunting, Memory Train and Drifting in Awe. He completed his MFA in poetry and fiction in January of 2018.