New England Past

My New England Past

Why am I longing to recreate for you

An Elusive circumstance?

Memories of my New England Past

Were shaped by chance and

Not Society’s demand.

A fierce storm

Gave way to a peaceful

Stillness of the fallen snow.

Nature was my refuge.

Childhood simplicity.

Awe of the storm

Eager to run to my Pine Tree

Alongside the hidden stream.

Under the drooping

Snow covered branches,

I’d savor the sweet smell and

Watch a lone squirrel

Search for an acorn as

Dried up brown leaves

Crunched underneath every

Graceful leap of

The fury tailed critter’s

Featherweight feet.

The neighborhood kids called in the distance.

I’d grab my skates

And run through the trails

To the frozen pond

Where we would glide along

Trying to imitate

Mary Mapes Dodge

Race for the Silver Skates.

When I got bored

I’d head for the hill.

My sled perched alongside the tree

Always ready to slide down with me.

My mother summoned as the

Darkness settled.

Reluctantly, I returned.

Determined to have

Another New England Day

Filled with Child’s play.

I originally wrote this poem years ago, prior to bringing the girls to Mammoth Mountain.

I decided to share it here.