A Redbird Day…

It is a Red Bird kind of day as I carefully

walk the bramble-hedged path through

the forest that edged our home.  I could

hear leaves crunching, not from my boots…

but a lighter slower movement.

 

I can hear the crusted creek running beside

the path flowing gently through vein like

openings in the ice.  I can smell the wood

smoke from our fireplace.

 

I know that on the warming shelves of the

old wood stove are hot  biscuits and ham

waiting for me to get home from scurrying

the forest for nuts and berries, a treat while

we sit around the fireplace listening to

grandpa’s latest tale of the war he fought in

during his youth.

 

Mother’s watching from the window for signs

of my bright colored hat she knitted me last

Christmas, she opened the door and waved;

I was late and she was worried.  I showed her

my overflowing baskets, she smiled…I wanted

keep her happy so, I did not tell her about the

Wolf.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

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HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

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