The breath of spring was wild and free just after a winter's freeze and the colorful birds of the eastern region were singing with gracious ease.
The river was blue like the clearing sky the waves in the breezes played. The soil of the land was moist and prime for seeds in the months ahead.
A man of long years looked over his fields his drawn face character lined. He watched the Terns as they rolled and reeled on winds of familiar time.
Memory waves straight from the past brought to mind a slight young man his true love had come to him so fast like a child he'd asked for her hand.
Beneath the moonlit skies at night his lips had covered her fears. Her golden hair in the soft moonlight left a vision beyond compare.
Her voice came pleading to his ears, "move on," she cried, "move on." Her final calling had come last year and now she was ghastly gone.
Then the wagons creaked and the wheels squeaked and cedar rails marked the time when home dreams were the real scene and family was a frame of mind. Now a Cadillac rests by the old woodshed and the wagon rots in the barn and the old homestead where the children lived plays host to an old man's charms.
Into the silence breaks a bright sound to bring back the dead from the past over the field there is running abound a small curly haired lass.
"Grandpa, Grandapa," was her jubuilant shout "I've come to stay over the night!" and into his arms she jumped just about knocking him down with delight.
Her small face cradled next to his neck he fought back the tears in his eyes. Out of his vision came the deepest respect for the gifts that his love left behind.
[This message has been edited by ethome (edited 07-18-2000).]
Very nice. Makes me think of the area that I live in (at least for a time), this beautiful Pennsylvania-Dutch Country, the farms and rolling hills, friendly people (well...sometimes), family values, etc.
Gives a warm feeling Geoff
New Brunswick Canada