Long Nostalgiagrandmother Poems
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I have a faint memory
From a time long ago I was five maybe six
I was walking a dirt path from my grand parent?s bungalow
It was early in the morning and the peat moss was everywhere
I remember my grandfather just looking at me with a smile
Then his head nudged to the left and said come along with me for a while
He?d take my hand and we went for a walk past the mist and through the brush
It led into a thick field where blueberries were everywhere
On our way back I could see a pebble shore it was through the trees and across the way
It was on a crystal lake somewhere upstate in a town of the same name sake
And just up the road was a pasture which was part of someone?s estate
Its landscape caught my attention and would remain embedded in my mind
I remember jogging along side the road back to the view I felt drawn to.
Because I wanted to see the sun set
I went back to that pasture and watched it go down
From the distance I could see cows grazing the land too.
I stood there just looking at everything around me
It was such a beautiful scene
A gentle breeze and the scent of flowers all around
I took the moment into my mind like a photograph in time
On the way back I notice this prairie was attached to someone?s home
There was a sign in front it was on a red brick stone wall
It said the Johnson and Johnson estate
I stole one lasting view then ran back before it was too late
Going the other way I could see another giant sign
It said Crystal Lake Pennsylvanian next left
I ran for the entrance and up the pebble hill
I turned back for a moment and looked across the street
I could see the wire metal fence and the pebble shore
I took another picture into memory
Then continued running up the hill and on the dirt road
My heart was racing cause? I thought everyone was looking for me
I could see my aunt and uncle just waving to me
Then I heard my grandmother call out my name
I could smell food in the air chicken and sweet potatoes on the Bar-B-Q
I sat down to eat and found my cousins there too.
As I gaze out the upstairs window
Looking at a scene from yesterday
This place from my childhood
This place of cherished memories
It is early, and a burst of sun gleams proudly
As it began it's rise over the distant horizon
A string of washing waving on the line
Looking like colorful flags flapping in the wind
And the doves strutting on the cobbled path
Cooing their song, or perhaps complaining
About the chill of the October morn.
Perhaps it is not quite the same now,
As it was on a long ago October morn
Yet, something of those days hang on
The washing no longer blowing in a breeze
The doves have found a home beyond
My grandmother has long been gone
But there still prevails a peaceful song.
I wake to the songs of the birds
I hear them calling my name
I know their comings and their goings
Just as they know mine.
I have woken to the songs of the birds
They know me as I know them.
Season after season
My age has kept the count.
Generational eternity
The going's on of time...
I know these birds
Just as my grandmother before me knew hers
And hers before her knew theirs
And so on, and so forth
Ongoing forever
Forever and ever throughout time.
Repeating, always repeating
Just as a repeating decimal would
Always and forever repeating
with no ending ever in sight.
(January 22, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
The kitchen, on the weekend mornings
When company came for a visit,
Habitually simmered like a cauldron of furious activity.
Despite a balmy morning on a September day,
The temperature rising by the moment
My grandmother would stand,
Red faced at her kitchen table
Rubbing flour and butter briskly
Through her fingers into a large mixing bowl
Apples already peeled and sliced would lay
Like pale green petals in the pie plate,
Waiting for the crumbled topping.
She may have fallen asleep the evening before
In her big, fat, over-stuffed chair
Long before her house guests had even
Stifled a lazy yawn
But on this bright, sunny morning
She was as young as a new bride.