In the February haze
(Just above freezing),
I turned right across the creek
'Tween piles of rotting snow
And "made pilgrimage."

In spite of the "new" road,
And well-lit international
Fabrication facility,
The magic still remained,
A faint song, but music . . .

"I've seen the smiling
Of fortune beguiling,
I've tasted her pleasures,
And felt her decay;
Sweet is her blessing,
And kind her caressing,
But now they are fled
And fled far away."

Even winter days were bright here,
The hunt so often good,
Memories filled with friendship,
Fresh air, and pastoral beauty,
A youthful home beloved.

"I've seen the forest
Adorned the foremost,
Wi' flowers o' the fairest
Baith pleasant and gay,
Sae bonnie was their blooming,
Their scent the air perfuming,
But now they are withered,
Are withered away."

And we spoke of Mid-Summer
Of the mystery of June,
Of bare feet and marsh grass,
Of blackberries in bloom,
But now they are withered,

"Are withered away."

02/10/2008

Author's Note: Thank you "wise fathers" of Brigham City.

Posted on 02/11/2008
Copyright © 2025 Leonard M Hawkes