Up North

 

 

 

A house with windows curtained

By the green of graceful trees;

A boathouse on the lakeshore,

Fish or swim, as you please;

A shy path grown familiar,

A secret grotto found;

A deer in the garden

When it thinks no-one’s around;

Some sweetcorn on the table,

A mess of walleyed pike,

And applesauce resulting

From Mother’s morning hike

To the Duchess trees that linger

In the old potato patch,

Lovely to look at

And with apples to match;

A blazing log as sunset fades,

A neighbor’s call;

An interesting discussion

Of “the meaning of it all;”

They may not seem important –

All these things we’ve had.

But for us they hold the spirit

Of Mom and Dad.