Today came sounds that bid to times before,
through years, a Redwing Blackbird sang at dawn.
A vision of a pond just past those hills,
where willows weep, tall reeds adorn the shore
There barefoot, splashing through a silent stream,
in search of something – nature’s wondrous truths.
The years are fleeting; lost imprisoned days
now seek this soul, sweet essence from a dream.
Scene cedes to fields – wild flowers craggy loam.
There finds delightful sites in dawn’s first light.
With laughter, loved ones, farm house standing tall,
midst Elms held close by solemn strains – as home.
To once again ascend those lush green hills,
find refuge, myths reflecting days long past.
See childhood days, now loved ones, siblings, friends,
a tide of loneliness and woeful chills.
As mid-day sights and sounds reclaim spent hours,
devoid of restless souls once standing bold.
I hear a rustic bell ring luncheon call,
“come home,” refresh for lunch – secluded bowers.
Now weathered house awaits old godly ghosts,
as thoughts of dusk encounter boarded doors.
When water creatures sing near ageless pond,
an evensong of welcome – summer’s hosts.
Small fireflies light lanterns, glow of hope.
Through dark, night secrets find sweet sleep till dawn,
then capture morning’s radiant sunrise.
We awake, face life’s tragedies and cope.
Now we greet a glorious bright new day,
climb new-found hills, a sweep to meet our goal.
Tread this known path, probe stories lost, grown old,
here seek my roots – my heritage – my way.
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