Friday, 11 June 2021

Summer 1958

by June Crawford Sanders

when portable roller rinks appeared like magic
in grassy lots in Southwest Arkansas like tent
revivals with colored lights and skates to rent,
boys in white tees and tight Levis holding hands
with awkward girls all skinny arms and legs in circle
skirts over layers of crinoline petticoats transformed
into pure grace gliding in endless circles in perfect
rhythm to the rock & roll music echoing thru sweltry
Saturday dark. And holding hands was everything.

* * * * *

June Crawford Sanders lives on the side of a mountain in the Sierra Nevadas.  Favorite pastimes include writing, photographing bobcats, bears, and birds that come to the backyard water fountain, playing piano, and camping. Her poems have been published in several small press publications, including What the Elephant Said to the Peacock by Dempsey and Windle, UK, Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthology, and Eureka, a tiny Poems-For-All book published by Robert Hansen, San Diego.


  1. "Saturday dark," and "holding hands was everything." Transporting!

    1. June C Sanders11 June 2021 at 09:02

      Thank you, Mathew Paust.

  2. Yes, this lovely poem takes me back to a place I never really experienced.

    1. June C Sanders12 June 2021 at 11:29

      Thank you, Marianne.

  3. June C Sanders12 June 2021 at 11:35

    Thank you, Marianne.