Can you hear the whispers
of childhood dreams and days?
Remembering those threadbare thrills
And the hopes of yesterdays?
When the winter is around you
And it clutches upon your heart
Find comfort in those sweet old ways,
Like a pilgrim to dreamers’ trysting-place.
Where your soul can dance beyond the harbor bar
To where the untroubled, shining waters are
And you can, in resurrection’s bashful glory,
Start again on your life’s untold story.
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.
As every leaf has its own particular hue,
So have days,
Golden or filled with sorrow, falling side by side
But when a child plays in those leaves,
They all bring equal joy
To that child’s one day.
The road to Heaven is
The old country road
I walked every day as a little girl.
The dandelions, the weeds,
Morning light through
A secret triumph and a song
Through silvered forest.
Two sets of rubber boots
Wading through feather-light
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
I set out to re-conquer the remote islets
of my childhood
With no other guide than homesick tears.
It was like poaching happy memories
From a seagull’s empty nest
With wings obediently
Following the soft pull of the salty sea.