They talk to me,
These leaves whispering in my ears,
Of summer days and moonlit nights
Running fields of swaying grain.
You after me, me after you,
Exploring jungles of green-stalk rows
Dressed in palest corn-silk cream.
Grandmother’s voice, soft southern in my head,
Telling me, “Young ladies, their clothing never shed
When running woodlands wild and free.”
Oh, but I know they do, for I saw them,
With nary a stitch, my mother and father too,
Rolling in sweet clover in the glen,
Laughing and sighing beneath a star-washed sky.
Grandfather’s words curling about inside my mind,
Spinning tales of then and before
When the world was new,
And adventure waited ‘round every bend.
The moon shone farther away than man had ever been,
Felines were magical and mystical,
And alabaster unicorns walked the Earth.
Father’s laughter, soft then loud,
And ever wrapping children about
With a warmth warmer than sun’s rays.
Walking streambeds in forest and meadow,
Whispering greenery high over head,
Shushing woodland floor beneath our feet.
We learned of Vikings while hunting Indian arrowheads.
Mother’s song filled our world
Softly flowing, lilting, crooning,
Winging us through our days and nights
To the sun, the moon, the Milky Way,
Then back to our world of dancing shadows
Where there lived nary a seed of doubt,
They loved us and we loved them.
We’ll never be loved as we were then,
But what we had will always be
Whispering in my ears, talking to me
Of woven tales of then and yore,
Adventure waiting ‘round every bend.
Tales of felines magical and mystical
And unicorns that walked the Earth.
