{"id":1665,"date":"2013-05-21T02:44:25","date_gmt":"2013-05-21T02:44:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=1665"},"modified":"2017-07-11T20:41:56","modified_gmt":"2017-07-11T20:41:56","slug":"summer-in-a-country-town-by-eileen-dawson-peterson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/summer-in-a-country-town-by-eileen-dawson-peterson\/","title":{"rendered":"Summer in a Country Town by Eileen Dawson Peterson"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"sunset1\"<\/a><\/h1>\n

Summer in a Country Town<\/h1>\n

(in memory of Sisseton, SD)<\/p>\n

by\u00a0Eileen Dawson Peterson<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I remember
\nrain barrels
\nthe round sound
\nwhen several friends hung their heads
\ndeep inside and hollered
\nand hollered until the echoing voices
\nsounded like a crowd shouting
\nback at you;
\nthe hollow whisper
\nof my brother calling through
\nthe rainspout on the roof
\ninto my ear at the other end
\non the ground.
\nthe shrill call, “Ally, Ally, Over”
\nas the ball came sailing over the rooftop.
\nthe thrum of baseball cards pinned
\nto my brother’s bicycle spokes as he raced by;<\/p>\n

the acrid sweet odor of
\ncreosote when the sun unrelentingly
\nsizzled tarpaper roofs of garden sheds;
\nthe hot pungent smell of tar oozing
\nout of the asphalt where road crews
\npatched cracks and potholes in the road;
\nthe acid taste of tarbabies left behind
\nthat we chewed on a dare to our parent’s dismay
\nthe lusty rotting scent of fallen apples;
\nmustiness of freshly turned garden earth;
\nlilacs and peonies perfuming the air on the front porch;
\nburnt sugar from Gunderson’s kitchen
\nwhere Tuby’s Mom would be baking her specialty cake;<\/p>\n

the tartness of spring’s first rhubarb ribs
\ntwisted without permission from the ground;
\nthat special taste of gooseberries picked green in summer
\nripe in fall from the bushes surrounding the schoolyard;<\/p>\n

I remember
\nall the sounds smells tastes that made
\ngrowing up in a small country town special.<\/p>\n

Eileen Dawson Peterson (2011)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I remember
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