BookLife: A Poem for the Close of the First Day of Summer: Homesick, a villanelle

by Carol O'Day

A taste of summers past….

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Homesick

I miss you most at the end of the day

when brown mountain hawks circle and shriek,

and I hear the waves lapping in the cove on the bay.

Morning horns sound; I hear reveille play.

After crafts and canoes, cabin two springs a leak, and

I miss you most at the end of the day.

There’s a trail up the hill where groups of us stray.

I climb high enough so I can stand on the peak,

and I hear the waves lapping in the cove on the bay.

I write long letters home in the afternoon gray,

weary worn from the strain of new faces all week.

I miss you most at the end of the day.

At night, when it’s quiet, I dream and I pray

while big kids and counselors giggle and squeak.

I miss you most at the end of the day,

and I hear the waves lapping in the cove on the bay.