Just a wild thing
running across the lawn
on feet free from shoes
hair falling from the pins
meant to keep it contained
in a yellow summer dress
handed down from an older sister
a little too big
but leaving room to move
and climb the large poplar tree
at the edge of the yard
just a free spirit
untainted by the ugly
truths of life yet to come
ignorant of the ugly
reality of life to be faced
she is just a wild thing and free
This is where I grew up; Fisherman’s Island. My dad was the fisherman. Good memories. My next writing project includes poems and stories from here. My grandfather also worked here and my uncle built the cabin. The wild spirit in me was allowed to be free here.
I love the sound of this poem, especially the title!
What a beautiful place to grow up. It’s ashame what is happening to the wilds of America today. I am sure you draw much inspiration from that experience.
Photos gave life to your words. Good to go back in time and remember the good people and places. Thank you for the description and the amazing photos.