Already then, I knew
That there was something more
To life than what we see on skin
Of moments as they pour
How else could walnut-leaf
Etched bold on cobalt sky
Kissed gold in late-day sultry sun
Hurt me so perfectly?
And how could babbling brook
Evoke, without a word
Irrevocable bliss-song
Within its silver splurge
Or how could jaunty breeze
Drunk on clover-pink bloom
Invite this little me to dance
In nature’s grand ball-room
…or this; weeping of wind
Drifting lost; aimlessly
Through winter’s stricken woodlot
Where a leaf-song used to be
…soft purple-misted dawn
Heady with dazzling dreams
Of summer-splashing recklessly
Through merry moment-streams
Already then I knew
When I was but a child
Something unwritten beckoned
In the air, driving me wild
© Janet Martin
When I was a child, on Saturday mornings before we were old enough to help, we were 'shooed' from the kitchen so Mother could give it it's weekly floor-scrub and wax. Those mornings sometimes seemed to last eternally, esp. in the cold winter when I didn't feel like waiting in the barn. But then I would 'traipse' all over the place. Some of those memories are etched in my mind. This morning suddenly I recalled standing in a woodlot, wondering what made it so different in the winter...ah, yes! the silence. This woodlot is mostly cleared away now, but it was there I fell in love; with violets, lilacs, apple-blossoms, forget-me-not and sun-dappled green. At our creek I discovered the thrill of brook-song; I can hear it still. Thank-you Mom:) and God.
