Tuesday, April 25, 2017


Paul has asked us to feature community in our
Tuesday Poetics this week. I'm overcome with
nostalgia, which occasions this bit of prose.
Submitted to dVerse Poetics Tuesday
April 15, 2017

The indigenous aboriginals of Australia call it their belonging place … that place where they had their beginning.  My belonging place is that part of middle Illinois where I spent my childhood, wrapped in the unconditional love of my parents, and the safety of the surrounding community.    I close my eyes to a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds and smells etched forever in my soul.  I see still my mother’s garden, and the fields that stretched to the horizon in regimented rows of corn, golden waves of oats, fragrant fields of clover and alfalfa.  I hear the contented lowing of the cattle, the rooster’s morning crow, the nighttime hoot of the owl in the elm tree outside my window, and the snuffling grunts of the pigs at their feeders.  I smell the fragrance of the lilac by the yard gate, a wondrous blend of coffee brewing and bacon frying in early morning, the pungent smell of freshly turned earth, the unmatchable smell of new-mown hay, and the smell of sunshine on my sheets and pillow.

My belonging place was peopled by the good-hearted and hard-working farm families of our community, most of whom attended the same little roadside church and whose children attended my one-room school.  There were no locks on doors, no daily newspapers to bring us news of murder, mayhem and disasters.  Our news of the world beyond our little community came from the evening newscast on the old console radio beside my father’s rocking chair.  We went to bed at nightfall and got up at dawn.   The faces of those dear folks who peopled our community will remain with me always, and I am blessed.


  1. Beautiful prose Bev. Softened my heart to hear you describe those scenes.If you add a Haiku on the end this it would make a very fine Haibun I think. Thank You for this lovely contribution to the prompt.

    1. Thanks, Paul. I actually intended to add a haiku, and forgot. Maybe I'll go back and add one!

  2. Northwest rural Indiana brings back similar memories for me. There was a radio and eventually we got a TV. The school had five or six rooms. The church was about the size of someone's home just designed differently.

  3. A stunning bit of descriptive prose, giving us a tremendous sense of place. considering the state of the world today, I wonder how it would be to grow up there now.

  4. Oh, how I love the phrase "belonging place," and the beautiful way you've represented it here in gorgeous prose.

  5. I love this Bev, such stirring memories! My belonging place was wherever was home - we moved around a bit during my childhood. There was always a beautiful warmth there and I do hope my children feel this way about their younger days.
    Anna :o]

  6. Thank you for taking my imagination into this moment

  7. I enjoyed your childhood and growing up years in that peaceful and loving community ~ Those were the days of innocence and sunshine days Bev ~

  8. This is so great... and though places like this are disappearing it is so great to have them inside. Love the focus on smell.

  9. I love the scents and sounds you incorporated into that first paragraph! You write of a truly large and inclusive community where everyone participates. Lovely.

  10. I agree with Paul - this is a haibun in the oven ready for baking with those sights and sounds of seasons communing

  11. You've been blessed indeed, Bev!