It’s Poetry Friday!
Back in the day when I shared writing lessons with students and teachers, I often used “That Was Summer” by Marci Ridlon as a mentor text. Here’s the first verse:
Have you ever smelled summer?
Sure you have. Remember that time
when you were tired of running
or doing nothing much
and you were hot
and you flopped right down on the ground?
Remember how the warm soil smelled—
and the grass?
That was summer.
This week my poetry group was charged with exploring a sense, and Marci Ridlon’s poem immediately came to mind. I wanted to explore the sense of smell since so many of my memories, especially childhood memories, are linked to smells. “That Was Summer” was my jumping off point for my poem…
Can You Smell the Sun?
The smell of spring starts with the sun
encouraging each peony petal to open,
each honeysuckle bloom to burst.
It starts with the sun
rising over a salty sea
or a meadow of milkweed.
The smell of summer starts with the sun, too.
On a bed freshly made with line-dried sheets
or lotion-lathered limbs of kids diving in.
It starts with the sun
on sizzling sidewalks
and homespun fun.
Take a deep breath.
Can you smell the sun?
Draft, 2023Rose Cappelli
Patricia has the round up today at Reverie where she is celebrating a special anniversary. Be sure to stop by for a special tribute to love and commitment and lots more poetry fun! Happy anniversary, my friend.
Imagine the Possibilities 
Yes, I can smell the sun in your beautiful poem full of imagery. I can hear the summer now as cicadas have arrived. Their song rises with the heat each day. You inspire me to write about nature and flowers and meadows. Summer is here. I am sighing relief from work days, but I woke up before the sun today. My internal clock is still on school time. Thanks for sharing your model poem and your “draft” that is touching my weary heart this early morning.
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The summer sun will forever smell to me like chlorine and hot concrete, Coppertone and tomato vines! I love all the specifics in your poem!!
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I’ve been taking my morning hikes honing in on senses this week. Yesterday right. Day before sound. This am smell. Contemplating the smell of snow melting ☺️
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You’ve really put me into the summer spirit, Rose. Lovely poem. I like imagining those freshly washed line-dried sheets . . .
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I have been thinking about the smell of the sun ever since I read this earlier in the week.
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The line – dried sheets are a definite for me. Months of drying washing indoors in snowy winter and that first glorious whiff of a line – dried sheet makes my heart sing. Although I like all the seasons for what they offer, summer is my favourite. Thank you for this gorgeous poem!
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Yes! All of it, yes!
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I can smell it! I especially love the second stanza, Rose :>)
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Oh, lovely–especially this stanza:
“It starts with the sun
on sizzling sidewalks
and homespun fun.” But then you had me (avowed sun worshipper) at “sun”. : )
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Rose, I am sorry that I arrived so late. It is hard to believe that one week of time so much happened in our family, a birth and death. Your poem is uplifting and that is what I need on this VERY long ride to Central NY for my Uncle’s funeral. Your topic, smelling the sun, is unique. I am going to pause right now to smell the sun!
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So sorry for your loss, Carol. Be well.
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I’m breathing it in! I love all the alliteration here, Rose. Lyrical and lovely. I want to go flop in the hammock now.
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