Claire V. Bogdanos

I choose to remember when I was a child

That the streams fell o’er rocks running free and wild

And trickled neath the garden wall

Through crevices that time installed.

The spattering rain bore a scent of pleasure

That’s stored in my mind like a hidden treasure,

These simple joys which I once knew

With passing years much fonder grew.

Some mornings I’d lie on the side of the hill

While the wind whistled tunes that sent me a chill,

With quick’ning pace fleet life had lent

I wondered where that springtime went.

Small prickly green spikes rushed to cover the ground

Bold to herald new seasons the year had found,

Those terms I’d based my life upon

Too soon before my youth had gone.

Each brook seemed to flow as though thought were inane

While crooning a song with a wistful refrain,

I tread beach sand so clean and white

And sadly kissed each day goodnight.

I marveled at clouds that decided to play

In the midst of a hot sultry August day,

First they were blue then rose then pink,

Plum in time for that sun to sink.

The fields wore a garland of flowers in bloom

With cascades of blossoms to sweeten the gloom,

I touched the frost that capped the sea

As the summer’s length swept past me.

I awoke with mixed chatter of migrant birds

To witness God’s errand that needed no words,

I laughed with glee when autumn came

Cause I’d heard of October’s fame.

The perfume of burning leaves since done away

Was the smouldering ash of another day,

Now I’ve grown old I still recall

Those umber leaves that echoed fall.

On overhead boughs naked and shivering

Lay remnants of nests in the wind quivering,

While logs and twigs were known to sleep

All winter long in snow knee-deep.

Soon white flakes that grandeur knew obscured the sky

While I with quick breath did watch the last bird fly,

The years are gone but not the thrill

Forget that time, I cannot still.

There was heart to smell and feel and taste and see

Perhaps question what life was offering me,

Why must truth hide behind a mask

To yield unwon its precious task?