Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal


Judith Anderson

If I were a child
I’d mount my dragonfly
And fight off hordes of wasps
And enter dark woods
To seek a shaft of light
And climb up to a cloud.
If I were a child,
I’d dance upon the wind
And nap within the blossom
Of an angel’s trumpet tree.
If I were a child
I’d race beside a field mouse
To catch the shadow of the moon
And feast on fruits and berries
And drink from morning dew.

I am a child
Lost in a forest
Of thin legs and toeless feet
That move at random
And need to be investigated.
I am a child
Hungry for facts:
What do puppies taste like?
What flavor is a worm?
Why do Grandma’s glasses
Make rainbows on her cheeks?
I am a child,
A stranger in strange place
With no time to waste
On flights of foolish fancy
Till I’ve mastered the world.


Judith Anderson lives on 20 acres at the end of a dead end road in St. Clair County. She recently obtained her first Confederate Rose plant and points with pride when it blooms, but as much as she loves flowers, she is more famous as a "seed undertaker" than gardener. She is more successful as a grandmother and wife and mother, and to fill out her life, she works with her husband in a nonprofit organization.

© Judith Anderson

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2012