Return to: Behind Closed DoorsInto the Hornets’ Nest at Seagrave’s Mill We called it Hornet Island. Everyone knew the danger of bees. You and I, the brave ones, could never resist a dare. We decided to race it, and I was first to reach shore. No bees; just me gloating a victory dance, and you giving chase. When you caught me, we wrestled in the grass beneath shrub trees; a familiar scenario, but we were both suddenly new. I was fourteen, and you two years more. Your hand cupped my bare knee as you leaned forward, and green eyes became my sky. Your mouth, in gentle pressure to mine, was hesitant, salty, and stale sweet. I had been kissed before; chased on a playground, cornered in a hallway, surprised in a children’s game. But, you were the first time I lingered. You were the first time I wanted more. Shirley Alexander © 2009
