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.

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But the woods crave our loneliness…

The woods crave our loneliness…
Trees we once climbed and swung from,
Bound with our sorrows and joys…
They have become companions
Disrobing us of our worldliness
Until we again become purple shadows under
Their leafy wings.

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
Leaves
Without even asking
Who is calling me up there,
Perhaps it is just granny
Telling me that the pancakes
Are ready.

An Ode to the Innocence of Childhood

Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and days
When you were but a little child
And the world was games and play

When the joyous fields
And soft warm nights
Were young and free from stain
And the woods were full of secrets
And fairies danced in the lanes

When sunsets were singing lullabies
For goldenrods and cloves
And warmly folded you into
The loving arms of home

Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and days
When God was a wayside flower
An afternoon in May
Or a little lamb at pasture
Or the sunrise above the bay
And the sweetness of your laughter
Was better than any prayer

Can you hear the music
Of old-time dreams and play
When you were but a little child
And the world was games and play