Footprints in new snow

Footprints in new snow
Are like dreams
Leading you back
To your childhood home.

Flights of fancy

Streams always seem to whisper
something to themselves in the hollow,
Making each other laugh.
It is rather infectious
Summoning me back
To my childhood’s flights of fancy.

The road to Heaven

The road to Heaven is
The old country road
I walked every day as a little girl.
The dandelions, the weeds,
the dragonflies.
Morning light through
Kitchen windows.
A secret triumph and a song
Through silvered forest.
Two sets of rubber boots
Wading through feather-light
New snow.
And I follow obediently
The course of the autumn
Without even asking
Who is calling me up there,
Perhaps it is just granny
Telling me that the pancakes
Are ready.