“I know what you did last summer”
– Ben Willis, I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997)
I Know What You Did Last Summer
I know what you did last summer
with your little red wagon
when your garden was heavy
with produce: carrots, radish
cucumber, zucchini, green beans,
strawberries, blueberries, lettuce,
spinach, chard, kale, cabbage.
The first time I saw you
was the day I left my windows
open to warm breeze.
My curtains flip-flapped
aroma of sweet and pungent,
calling me to look out.
You were just passing by…
I stepped out into afternoon
and watched you
and your black cat, Max,
squeak and stroll
up Old Mr. Johnson’s drive-
way. You rang his doorbell
and Myrtle, his peach poodle,
barked her wheezy bark
until he creaked open the door.
“Mr. Johnson, I have early beans,
and many more tasty things
to share.” Mr. Johnson’s
dentures gleamed in sunlight.
Then on you went to each need,
until your little red wagon
bounced, empty, over
root-lifted sidewalk jumps
back home, Max drooped
over your shoulders. You,
Robin Hood of Garden Bounty.
You passed away this winter
but your generosity will live
on forever in the hearts and
smiles of the people who
benefited from it. Max, now
sitting on my windowsill,
aggrieved, still listens for you…
Mish is today’s host of dVerse’ Poetics Tuesday. Mish wants us to choose one of the lines from a horror movie and use it in a poem.
Tao Talk 
Heartwarming–just what I needed today. (K)
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Happy to oblige, K.
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What a heart-warming story Lisa from the line of such a dark film 💕
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Thanks, Someone. Never saw the movie, but I can imagine.
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What a beautiful bowl of goodies! 😋
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:)
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The title is a perfect “pivot” to the story itself, Lisa. Indeed, a summer with warm memories that will last all year…every year.
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Bruce, I like how you put that. :)
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That was wonderful, Lisa.
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Thank you very much, Nancy.
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Most welcome, Lisa.
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Lovely poem.
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Thanks much, AM.
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When we were kids we used to load our wagon with vegetables from my parents garden and walk around the neighborhood selling them. Now as an adult I know that gardening is not easy and I wonder what my parents really thought!
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Christine, I’m glad my poem brought the memories back to you. You mean, do you wonder if your parents didn’t want you to sell them?
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Yes! I can only imagine them now going out to the garden to find the veggies all gone!
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Sounds like maybe they wanted to cultivate something good in you then. I understand about the now. Healthy food prices have gone through the roof!
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When I used to teach the little guys, who all came from poverty, I remember being amazed that some of them had never tried blueberries, let alone starfruit and some of the other fruits I would bring in.
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Christine, isn’t that heartbreaking. I remember some of the kids I had on caseload had never been to Lake Michigan (which our town is right on the lake.) Their worlds were confined to a few city blocks, and their diets whatever the corner convenience store could provide. :(
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That reminds me of a question I asked those same kids once. I asked “If grandma lives over on this side of the river (I drew a diagram) and you have to go over this bridge to get to her house, what happens if the bridge is broken?” Their responses were that you don’t get to see grandma! Not one of them said to go a different way. Yes, heartbreaking.
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Beautifully written, Lisa. It is not what we take with us when we are gone, but what we leave behind….
your generosity will live
on forever in the hearts and
smiles of the people who
benefited from it.
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<3
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How poignant – the legacy of good that lasts.
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Thanks for reading, WP.
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This is so beautiful, Lisa!
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Steve, thanks so much. I decided to write “normie” with it. lol
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You’re welcome, good choice!
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:)
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What a beautiful story you tell in you poem, Li. I love it.
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Judy, thank you. I see you as a person interacting in the middle of your community like him.
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A very heartwarming poem
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Sadje, thank you. Just imagine a world where everyone helped their neighbors this way <3
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It would be heaven on earth.
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Thank you for cheering me up this grey October morning, Lisa, with your summer tale of the little red wagon and the thought of all that wonderful home-grown food. I love how you set the scene in the second stanza, with the open windows, the curtains flip-flapping (great use of sound there), and the introduction of Max the cat in the third (I used to have a cat called Max). I felt I knew Old Mr. Johnson and Myrtle – and that name you gave your character, the ‘Robin Hood of Garden Bounty’! The ending is bittersweet; I’m glad Max found a new home.
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{{{HUGS}}} Your comment cheered me up. Thank you.
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Always a pleasure, Lisa.
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I love this, Li! Simple things can being so much joy. ❤️
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Punam, I totally agree! I’m always subconsciously looking for them, I think, and they show themselves <3 Thank you.
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Oh! This is such a beautiful story in a poem, Li! I love all the details of the garden bounty and Max the cat. Heartwarming!
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Merril, happy you enjoyed the narrative poem, thank you.
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I did, Li!
BTW, I emailed you on Saturday.
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Merril, I just looked through my inbox and junk mail folders for Saturday and did not find it. Could you please re-send?
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I re-sent it. It wasn’t anything that important, just responding to the comment you made to me about something at OLN.
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I got it and I see now why I didn’t before. The gmail account was supposed to be a one-use only but it ended up taking over things it shouldn’t have! I just sent a message to the dVerse hosts group about it. Thanks for re-sending it.
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Yes, saw your email. I’m glad it’s all straightened out now.
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Me too. I was a bit anxious for a minute there.
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Such a beautiful poem!
Bravo
Thanks for dropping by my blog
much♡love
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Thank you and you’re welcome, Gillena. Glad you liked it.
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That was beautiful. What a great way to change that quote into a warm remembrance.
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That was me, Maria.
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Maria, glad you enjoyed it, and there was a certain relief in neutralizing an iota of evil into beauty.
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This was delightful to read, Li, though sad at the end–but still the generosity and memory of it lives on in those who were blessed by it and in your poem.
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<3 Thanks much, Jennifer. I enjoyed writing about a good human being.
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This truly touched my heart, Li. I never watched the movie but I remember the eerie vibe that the previews evoked. Wow, did your heart-warming piece ever “flip the switch”! I so want this to be a true story.
Mish
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Mish, happy it touched your heart. Never saw the movie but I remember others like it, where the stalker would cut the phone lines so they were unable to call for help. One of the big bonuses of having a cell phone!
Mish it’s a compilation of many altruistic individuals I’ve met along the way, so yes, it is a “true story.” Thanks so much.
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What a wonderful summer memory with a sad ending… but remembering the good things is what we should do.
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Thanks, Bjorn.
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Lisa, I love how “Robin Hood of Garden Bounty” captures the whole poem’s heart—it feels tender and quietly heroic.
~David
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Quiet heroes are the best kind. Thanks, David, glad you liked it.
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There is no way I could have read your exquisite poem without shedding a tear or two. “Robin Hood of Garden Bounty” the kind of person worth knowing, celebrating. Thanks for leaving me comment, Merril.
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So sorry for not using your name, Lisa … I had just finished reading Merril’s poem and lost track of where I was, could you blame it on my age? LOL LOL
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No worries, Helen. I’ve done it myself more than once <3
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<3 Thanks so much, Helen. People like him are boddhisatvas.
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This is such a heartwarming poem, Lisa! 😍😍
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Glad it warmed your heart, Sanaa <3
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