TheBanyanTree: Circle of Grief

[NancyIee at aol.com]

I miss them most in the Fall.
I remember my Dad raking leaves into the gutter
back when we could still do that
us kids jumping in and scattering our work
over boulevard and walk
like pieces of eight.
And, as though on signal,
all the neighbor dads would strike the match
and the block would smoke
and glow far into the night.
I would sometimes join my Dad
way past my bedtime
as he raked together the last of the coals
and ashes into a shrinking pile.
I remember my Mom, saving the pretty ones,
to press between waxed paper
making placemats and window decorations
that would gradually fade
and finally crumble by first snow.
I remember the lake place
where we would go
on a cool Fall weekend
to wash and shutter the windows
wipe out the frig
slide the boats into the boathouse
for the last time before winter.
I remember you most in the Fall
And our first love-making
When the  heat would not work
And I clung as much for heat
As for passion.
And,  fishing on a lake ringed with golden trees.
When the geese were  gathering
And hot chocolate on the porch
Our cheeks pink from a good  working day.
And I miss your grin
Whenever you looked at me that  way.
 
NancyLee





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