Thursday, August 16, 2012

L'Arora on Poetic Bloomings

Seasons of Country Memories

Sometimes when I’m in a warm retreat
And the snow is heavy and sky bleak
I think of Pennsylvania skies,
Sled rides and snow fights with friends and dogs
Building forts in level spots
When nights were cold and days were brief.
My memories warm me there
Of long icicles and frost motif.

Sometimes when fragrant air is warm and sweet
And temperatures grow mild and meek
I hear chirping birds and buzzing flies.
I dream of splashing around in yards like bogs
Riding bikes through buttercup dots
When violets appear and trees leaf.
My memories are light and fair
When fun and laughter were chief.

Sometimes my shoes weigh heavy on my feet.
I long to go barefoot in the creek
Chasing butterflies and dragonflies
Minnows, crawdads and peep frogs
Picking tiger lilies and popping touch-me-nots.
My memories, it is my belief,
Of running hills and breathing country air
Brings great relaxation and relief.

Sometimes when the fields are ripe with wheat
And the golden aspen seem to speak,
This may come as a surprise,
Though I love the smell of pine logs
And delight in Jonathan apples by the lots,
At times I feel I’ve been robbed by a thief
Of childhood autumns of color and flare.
My memories bring a tinge of grief.

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