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Cristina M. R. Norcross / Copyright 2012
"Walking in Circles" is based on the longer poem below. I created a brief glimpse of poetry as an overlay on the photograph above.
Walking in Circles
After dinner I would go for a walk
with my father and our schnauzer.
We didn't have anywhere to go,
so we would walk in a big circle
around the public library.
The paper factory downtown puffed out
a perfume scent that filled the air.
Sure, the perfume was from
the scented toilet paper they manufactured,
but I thought it smelled good.
The apartment was temporary –
just until we found a house
that we liked.
I switched gymnastics studios,
had my ears pierced
and started listening to the Go Go's.
Three years went by,
and we were still
in the same three-room apartment
with only one bathroom.
The move back East was inevitable,
with grandparents getting older
and the perfect house never appearing.
We changed geographies, homes
and schools.
Ballet replaced gymnastics.
We still had our walks
with the same dog though.
No more streetlights –
just a quiet cul-de-sac
and a cliff overlooking the lake.
The scent of trees replaced
paper factory smoke.
There will always be a certain comfort
in walking in circles.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2012
After dinner I would go for a walk
with my father and our schnauzer.
We didn't have anywhere to go,
so we would walk in a big circle
around the public library.
The paper factory downtown puffed out
a perfume scent that filled the air.
Sure, the perfume was from
the scented toilet paper they manufactured,
but I thought it smelled good.
The apartment was temporary –
just until we found a house
that we liked.
I switched gymnastics studios,
had my ears pierced
and started listening to the Go Go's.
Three years went by,
and we were still
in the same three-room apartment
with only one bathroom.
The move back East was inevitable,
with grandparents getting older
and the perfect house never appearing.
We changed geographies, homes
and schools.
Ballet replaced gymnastics.
We still had our walks
with the same dog though.
No more streetlights –
just a quiet cul-de-sac
and a cliff overlooking the lake.
The scent of trees replaced
paper factory smoke.
There will always be a certain comfort
in walking in circles.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2012
1 comment:
Brings back memories of the years in GB when dad was the chief psychologist at Brown Cnty MHC. We dreamt of returning to our summer home at Lake Mohawk, making the best of a "temporary" situation. You discarded your Jordasch jeans for Levi's and settled into the midwest culture, we all did. After a year on "the farm" the church apartment prompted us to seek a new adventure every day in downtown Green Bay. Do you remember those evenings at the Ponderosa when we met several of the "Packers" and watched the magician on Thursday nights? The day the tornado touched down within several miles of the city, I drove to your school, some ten miles out into the country, in my VW Rabbit, windows open, hair flying in the wind, somehow thinking that the turbulence would simply pass me by. On our return, we hid in the janitor's closet until all danger was past. In the corner was a beautiful Steinway piano where you practiced every day after school. One Sunday, our church was visited by the retired Archbishop of Canterbury, during Lent. Under alternate circumstances, had we been living on the east coast, we would have missed this intimate experience, for here we were surrounded by a very noisy group of people, who welcomed Archbishop Michael Ramsey, the gentle giant and one of the Church's Saints. Thanks for sharing your poem with all of us. You, dad and "Strudel", our beloved English Schnauzer took those walks many evenings, walking in circles, biding time, until the next chapter...Bless you for preserving these precious moments in the life of our family.
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