Robert Hayden Reflecting on Those Goldenrods of his Childhood

Deborah H. Doolittle

Late summers—when the woods
and fields around about became
suddenly drenched in some degree
of green—took their cue from their
peculiar sulfur-yellow hue:

goldenrod. Spare of flower, scant
of leaf, it towered above him
as he walked through on his way
to school, unappreciative. Bees
and the many little yellow

butterflies somehow knew these blooms
were the last hurrah. What did he
know about such things? Goldenrod
was boiling over like the unwatched
pot, and he, spoiling for a fight.

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Deborah H. Doolittle has lived in lots of different places(including the United Kingdom and Japan) but now calls North Carolina home. A Pushcart Prize nominee, she is the author of Floribunda and three chapbooks, No Crazy Notions, That Echo, and Bogbound (Orchard Street Press).When not writing or reading or editing BRILLIG: a micro lit mag, she is training for 5K,10K, and half marathon road races or practicing yoga. An avid bird-watcher, she shares a house with her husband, six house cats (all rescues), and a backyard full of birds.