Days of Old Returned

Those olden days those Celtic lands Now I ponder my ancient kin Who kept awake while listening During the stormy nights of rain and winds Cold wet nights those achy joints brought and bring And now as then there were books paper and pens For storms now halt electricity and computers They lay still and quiet all the day While back then women tended those in need And monks made honey mead and prayed Large dogs sat quietly near the door Keeping watch for the mistress and meat That fell from her cooking chores Pieces thrown to good dogs treats that fell upon the floor For now pens, books and papers return As we wait for a heavy storm Home sounds are softer our minds are quiet Listening for winds and thunder our new norm Returned are the memories harsh and sweet of the olden days of yore