I recently returned from London, spending time with my daughter and her family. I couldn't help but notice the new pair of flip-flops she sported, breezily covered in summertime polka dots.
It took me back ten years to when I fell in love with something similar. Though I wore through them in only one season, they always brought a smile to my face when I slipped them on. Enough for me to pen a poem about this happy-go-lucky footwear. As can be plainly seen, the cost of living was a teensy bit less back then.
Target Bargains - $9.99
Nine ninety-nine at Target
For a tank-top and black flip-flops
With rainbow colored polka dots.
A handful of coins
For a sack full of sunshine
Hip-hop and soda pop
All for nine ninety-nine.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Stonehenge at Dusk
My last Sunday in London for a while, and all is well. This late summer season has produced blue skies on a daily basis, moderate temperatures, and multitudes of people enjoying the parks at any given time.
A few years ago we took a day trip to Stonehenge, and the calm that surrounded the monument contrasted sharply with the busy-ness of London. I discovered some of that same peace in the vast green spaces of the city this time around.
Stonehenge at Dusk
Raven scores
alight for vespers, chatting
as they settle on lintels
draped across shoulders:
blue stone monoliths
dragged from faraway Wales.
Placed with an eye to sanctify
the sun - that wanderer
in bitter northern climes -
the ancient boulders resonate
with evensong even now
a cantos across flaxen fields.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
A few years ago we took a day trip to Stonehenge, and the calm that surrounded the monument contrasted sharply with the busy-ness of London. I discovered some of that same peace in the vast green spaces of the city this time around.
Stonehenge at Dusk
Raven scores
alight for vespers, chatting
as they settle on lintels
draped across shoulders:
blue stone monoliths
dragged from faraway Wales.
Placed with an eye to sanctify
the sun - that wanderer
in bitter northern climes -
the ancient boulders resonate
with evensong even now
a cantos across flaxen fields.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Arrival Hall, Heathrow
Yes, I'm back in London, and will be here for the next ten days or so. Coming through customs into the UK frequently proves to be an interesting and lengthy proposition. Normally, I find myself in a queue with "helpful" signs indicating wait times spaced at ten minute intervals, telling me how long until I reach the head of the line. I know at least four of them exist, and who knows how many more might be behind closed doors. On the other hand, there have been those rare occasions when I have zipped through multiple retractable belt barriers without pausing to stop.
I will admit, however, that the most interesting time I spent waiting to gain admittance to the country occurred when I joined a queue that snaked, I swear, almost back to my plane. It provided plenty of opportunity to people watch, always a great way to amuse oneself.
Arrival Hall, Heathrow
Hundres of travelers
queue in Customs lines zigzagged:
a proper British maze
edges raw with children.
Ahead a phalanx of stands
like guard towers, drawbridges
bulwarking London still. On the perimeter
a Pakistani paces like a panther trapped,
shouts at a border agent
as if he could ride righteousness
into England. From an unseen scarp
a Queen's envoy, a Lancelot in coat and tie,
bears down on him prepared
to protect the kingdom from Visigoths
and holders of falsified visas.
An officer waves me forward,
peruses my own papers. Up front
nary a crossbow among the lot of them.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
I will admit, however, that the most interesting time I spent waiting to gain admittance to the country occurred when I joined a queue that snaked, I swear, almost back to my plane. It provided plenty of opportunity to people watch, always a great way to amuse oneself.
Arrival Hall, Heathrow
Hundres of travelers
queue in Customs lines zigzagged:
a proper British maze
edges raw with children.
Ahead a phalanx of stands
like guard towers, drawbridges
bulwarking London still. On the perimeter
a Pakistani paces like a panther trapped,
shouts at a border agent
as if he could ride righteousness
into England. From an unseen scarp
a Queen's envoy, a Lancelot in coat and tie,
bears down on him prepared
to protect the kingdom from Visigoths
and holders of falsified visas.
An officer waves me forward,
peruses my own papers. Up front
nary a crossbow among the lot of them.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
Monday, August 8, 2016
Sideshow
Back again from time spent up north. This time around the weather was close to perfect, and I would almost describe the days as halcyon. Except for those pesky mosquitoes. Not their size, mind you, but their numbers. We have had so much rain this summer that new crops of the buggers seem to hatch on a daily basis. Deet is the answer or I would never be lakeside.
Every trip to the cabin calls for a stop at a locally famous candy store which just happens to be on our way. It caters to tourists and remains open nine months of the year. When it closes in January for the winter I am always hugely disappointed. Somehow, candy brought up from the Cities never tastes quite as good.
Sideshow
The small town Sweets Shoppe crammed
with smiling parents and excited kids
carries a carnival vibe
as a contortionist stretches towards taffy
a weight lifter picks up rock candy
Siamese-like twins grab at jelly beans with four grubby hands
Godiva chocolate beckons a bareback rider
a slight-of-hand artist palms a wallet
the fire-eater searches for wintergreen
an animal handler leaves with peanut pockets
the high-wire worker sticks with toffee
some clown asks for free refills
gummi bears slip from the bag of the big game man
and Ring Master fathers finally marshall their troops out the door
ready to get the show back on the road for a weekend at the cabin.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
Every trip to the cabin calls for a stop at a locally famous candy store which just happens to be on our way. It caters to tourists and remains open nine months of the year. When it closes in January for the winter I am always hugely disappointed. Somehow, candy brought up from the Cities never tastes quite as good.
Sideshow
The small town Sweets Shoppe crammed
with smiling parents and excited kids
carries a carnival vibe
as a contortionist stretches towards taffy
a weight lifter picks up rock candy
Siamese-like twins grab at jelly beans with four grubby hands
Godiva chocolate beckons a bareback rider
a slight-of-hand artist palms a wallet
the fire-eater searches for wintergreen
an animal handler leaves with peanut pockets
the high-wire worker sticks with toffee
some clown asks for free refills
gummi bears slip from the bag of the big game man
and Ring Master fathers finally marshall their troops out the door
ready to get the show back on the road for a weekend at the cabin.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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