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Monday, July 25, 2022

A Ride (literally) Down Memory Lane


My third-youngest brother (Lewis) treated us to wagon-ride down Memory lane
(back our sideroad and local backroads)
on Saturday at our annual summer Martin family reunion...
Lots of laughter-filled reminiscing💖
(because most of us sister's childhood memories of wagon rides was to or from stone-picking,
 one of my sister's said 'yes! she would love a wagon ride!
 as long as there are no stones waiting to be picked😂😂)
 

(Dad and Mom, treasuring the flashbacks)


Young people getting a ride to the baseball field 
before we had our turn...
(to respect privacy faces have been blurred)



Where wild flowers still bloom and dust of youth still (almost) flies
Where fields gleam with bent barley-plumes beneath still cloud-strewn skies...


A few of my siblings teased me about a poem percolating as we trundled down dirt roads
and memory-lanes...while in the moment I couldn't imagine what was to come of it,
it was too special an occasion not to at least try to capture!
I tried to reel it in but it turned out longer than (Hubby, ahem,) 
quick readers would likely prefer...😅

We peer with distant gaze back to a long-forsaken world
Where out of Bygone’s haze an echo-mirage is unfurled
As scenes of common stomping grounds revive in hearts and eyes
And resurrect from misted Bounds, dear childhood’s paradise

Of dusty lanes and creeks and strains of weeping willow’s sigh
The thrill of racing to watch or chase freight trains rumbling by
Of dad and mom much younger then, although we didn’t know
Caught in the quick of hunger and molding what soon would show/grow

…while never going hungry, though a dozen mouths to feed
While learning about boundaries and how fruit follows seed/deed
While always loved no matter what we did or didn’t do
(…as we acknowledge the college, we drew dear parents through)

As we revisit places wakened by Past's sudden swell
As we dare to share secrets; laughing, brave enough to tell
As we retrace bare footsteps tripped through pastures; cow-pie rich
Or point to ‘there A Hay Load Tipped’, ‘there Fast Car Found the Ditch’

Where wild flowers still bloom and dust of youth still (almost) flies
Where fields gleam with bent barley-plumes beneath still cloud-strewn skies
Where little trees are big trees now, where yester-children learned
How swift the hand put to the plow will find time’s tables turned

Where correction we would not choose is worth its weight in gold
Where now we walk in well-worn shoes of swiftly growing old
Where mom and dad (still with us) hold a very precious part
In every single (ten of us’s) thankful-prayerful heart

So humbly blessed, we marvel at the patient, loving care
That surely must have tested their most earnest, pleading prayer
Of accidents (but life was spared) of mischief-foolish pranks
Of innocence guarded, work shared, of humble giving thanks

Memories mete a melody where music-shadows wend
As time perfects the harmony of notes that didn’t blend
As treasure-laden vessels, bent, broken, warped, chipped, and scarred
Embrace each tender token composing childhood’s postcard

Where weathering youth’s recompense makes us meeker of mind
Truth’s tethering of consequence and circumstance entwined
With what our precious dad and mom instilled, example-shod
The cornerstone of home-sweet-home; of love and faith in God

© Janet Martin


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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!