It’s the idle mind that
Cracks open the window—
Lets nostalgia creep in
Lets memory seep in-
to consciousness, crystal clear
Midwest summers where
We played unfettered—our feet
Toughened by the asphalt street
Chalked with hopscotch and foursquare.
Wiffleball on the front lawn, and there
We played jacks, on the small concrete porch
That held the sun’s heat while the scorch
Of the day flowed into the cool of night.
Connie S. Tettenborn, now living near San Francisco, began writing poetry as a 9-year-old child in Ohio and has since never completely stopped, even while obtaining her PhD in Oncology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and then working at various biotech companies. A transition to scientific editing yielded more time to focus on her poetry, which includes visual and mathematical poetry created using watercolor or digital media. Her poems have appeared in The Deronda Review and The Piker Press, while her visual poetry can be found online in The Tip of the Knife and Otoliths.
