laurawhiterivers

I’m not ready to say good bye
     To long talks and Apple crisp
Though it’s been many years since we shared either one.

The dark eyed juncos will hurt in the winters to come.
And I will remember the cold mornings in the rocking chair with you, counting the birds on Christmas day when I enjoyed being the only grand child of the family.

You knew these days were coming
    So did I.
So we talked, you talked
     And wisely
             I listened
                   For many years. 

You told me about summer kitchens
     And kerosene lanterns,
Crossing the frozen Hudson river on foot.

You told me about garment factories
      And war time Rosies.

About Great grandma’s dalliahs and the Jack in the pulpit in the rock garden.

You would always say “it was a different time then”
       it softened the decades, and brought the sounds of a busy farm back from memory.

I listened with genuine interest
     For it is where I come from too.

Winter is coming again.
     I show the girls the birds, like you taught me.
     The little dark eyed juncos will be here soon. 

I’m not ready for this
     Though I can see you are
           ever graceful, thoughtful prepared.

I am thankful for your time, your stories, giving me the birds
     The rock garden, lunches in the gap way on the sandy flat,
         counting the wild flowers on the walk there.

I have passed on the color of such things to your great granddaughters.
      They watch the birds too.
             they know the little dark eyed junco that hops in the snow.

We watch for snow drops in spring, and listen for the spring peepers
     Just as you did with me.

I’m not ready to say goodbye
   So
   Thank you will have to do
for now.