The sky invites
The sycamores to dance.
Bare branches
Bend and sway
Curtsying to one another
In proper fashion.
Meanwhile the leaves have flown.
They turn up around back
Loitering by the steps,
Rabble rousing and doing their wild dances…
Waiting for the night wind
to whisk them away.
Thankful that the leaves in the country just blow away…
It’s a local landmark
in our front yard.
“Is that the building with the tree in the middle?”
they ask.
We nod and smile.
Only the old folks remember
it used to be a
fruit-stand.
Bleachers built
in a perfect hexagon
around the tree
for bushels of gleaming red
and glowing gold apples —
Jonathan Mcintosh
Cortland Winesap
Golden delicious
Yellow transparent.
Breathe deep
Smell the sweet
Hear the shouts of sisters
jumping down the bleachers
between the baskets–
our feet zing
and echo
on the wooden boards.
The years transform
the echo
into the whine
of brine trucks
speeding up the road.
When did I get old?
Gratitude for the old cottage that has come round to my life again…
Seasons change — from spring to summer, from fall to winter…
Each time has its own beauty; I am grateful to live in a place where all four seasons are distinct. (Ask me that in late February, and I might not be so grateful…)
Seasons of life change too; and sometimes it isn’t so easy to navigate through those changes. Even when they are thoughtfully planned with prayers and guidance from The Lord, they are not always pain-free.
It was difficult for me to embrace the stress and anxiety that came from those changes; sometimes it was impossible to keep my own timeline from ticking away inside my brain. Mental to-do lists have flashed across my closed eyes for months now; real to-do lists were on my phone, on sticky notes, scrawled on the backs of envelopes…
The constant pressure of not enough time left me crabby, weary, and unfocused. Double that for Mr. H. C.
So it was with great joy that I deleted the last to-do list from my phone last week.
The sign is finally in the yard.
We are weary, yet hopeful, trying to ignore the stories of people having their house on the market for five years.
We are grateful that it is finally listed, yet wistful, for not only is it a beautiful house, it was a good home, full of living and dying, laughter and tears, love and memories.
And we want nice people to buy it and love it as we did.
Who wants to buy this lovely house?
Only nice people need apply.
the circle of life 