“A writer is someone who has taught his mind to misbehave.” – Oscar Wilde

Colleen Wells writes poetry and creative nonfiction. She’s a recipient of an Indiana Society of Professional Journalists Award and a runner-up for the Robert Frost Poetry Award. Colleen is the author of Dinner with Doppelgangers - A True Story of Madness and Recovery, and the poetry chapbook Animal Magnetism, published by Finishing Line Press in 2022.

Welcome to the Poets Weave. I'm Romayne Rubinas Dorsey. Colleen, what poems have you brought for us today?

“Watching”

Woods and water sheltered me as a child in my tiny corner of the world.
In the woods I could hide under a fortress of vines or crawl down a ravine.
I could hear the crunching of leaves under my feet or smell the sweet musk of wet earth.
I could find a caterpillar on the back of a green leaf.

I let him be.
And he became something beautiful that I never saw.

Across the gravel road, I could step into the glossy-clear lake and press my toes into sand
and shells and rocks.
I could twirl around, slicing my hands through the water
as schools of minnows darted back and forth like a collective soul.
I could float or merely sit by the shore and think vast thoughts
or think nothing at all.

But sometimes a chilly air would come, and a rushing wind bent the blades of grass.
My siblings and I would have to come in during storms even though we didn’t want to.
Through the screened porch we watched lightning smack down illuminating the sky like a signal to pay attention.
The wind whipped up the water making foamy waves and the lake became a black sea.

And we watched.
We watched it be.


“Summertime and the Livin’ is Almost Easy”

In the summers we go to the lake cottage for long periods of time.
We are only allowed to pack one paper grocery sack each for our clothes;
and I’m to pack layers, so my hooded sweatshirt goes on the bottom,
then jeans and long-sleeved shirts, then shorts and t-shirts
plus a skirt for church.
I have to keep mashing it down and being careful not to tear the bag.
My toothbrush and paste and hair bands go in a sandwich baggie on top.

Then once the bags are all in the back of the big blue van, we pile in
and get in our assigned seats.
I’m not allowed to talk too much during the drive,
because my stepdad doesn’t like it,
so if I talk too much, then I have to be quiet for four minutes.

Those four minutes seem to last forever
When I can’t take not being allowed to talk any more,
I pretend my fingers are people and tell them the things in my head.
I tell them we have to be quiet for four minutes or I’ll get moved to the back.

At the lake when our chores are done, I sit by the water and read under big, old trees
whose roots are never thirsty, cuz’ they’re so close to water.
My friends are the characters in my books:
Runaway Ralph, Ramona and Beezus, Amelia Bedelia,
Charlie Bucket, and Nancy Drew, depending on my age.

During the night when our parents take the boat to see friends,
we sneak bread slathered in sugar and cinnamon.
My brother climbs the rafters like a stealthy cat,
and the older kids tell me ghost stories outside in the dark.
Their voices get real low and serious to make them spookier.

Someone is always on the lookout for the glowing lights of the deck boat,
and for awhile I feel like I’m part of something,
even though some of the stories are too scary; like
the one they told me about the couple on a date at night in the park.

They said the couple kept hearing a noise, something scraping against the car roof.
The boy said it’s just a twig, but the girl wasn’t so sure.
Finally the boy got out and looked and it was a man hanging from a tree.
The noise was from his toenails scratching on top of the car
as he tried to get in.

But then we saw the tell-tale orange of the boat, and scattered to our bunk-beds,
because we knew we’d get in trouble for still being up.
My heart thumped as I got in fake sleep mode.

My heart hoped our parents would go out again soon
so they would tell me the rest of the story.

You've been listening to the poems of Colleen Wells on the Poets Weave. I'm Romayne Rubinas Dorsey.