THE MEADOW

 

 

The grass was tall in the meadow

Rimmed with stately birch and pines

With a careful eye the path of a moose

Could be seen where he had foraged

A rotted tree had hide grubs until a bear chanced by

Shrill squirrels competed for winter’s food

Bees droned amongst flowers gone wild

 

The winds over the years

Have pushed the sound of yesterday’s footsteps

Far to the east

Rains have washed clean the land

Leaving few traces of man’s effort

A small mound could tell a story

If one knew where to look

 

A man and a woman

For years had laboured in love

Children and crops and field beasts

Crops for winter and nature’s bounty too

Winter’s chimney smoke told a welcome to all

The winds had blown, as they always will

Scattering the seeds of man and tree

Two fallen crosses of stone

Lay in the warm sunshine