Autumn Remembrances

In Creemore, the maples burn in hues
Of red, yellow, orange –
Like old friends waving from the north end of Mill Street.
Fields lie quiet, grain sown deep,
Waiting patiently for the Spring rains’ soft kiss. And there, on the corner by the Sovereign Hotel, The chestnut tree still stands in my heart
A silent embrace to soothe a restless soul,
Its roots, like mine, forever intertwined
With the soil of home.
The bells of Sunday morning call to those
Who gather in the stillness,
As nature takes her slow retreat,
Preparing for winter’s sabbatical,
When all life pauses,
And the new stretched roots in a future design,
Are renewing in the cool depths.
I see the children bundled tight,
Their breath frozen in the crisp air,
A sight that lingers in the memory of first frosts,
Of hands warmed by woollen mittens,
Of laughter carried by the wind.
But now, at ninety years,
No snow and ice upon my door,
Southern California accepts autumn’s gentler sway, Where leaves fall softly, and the air is kind.
The blessing of warm winters, a gift in disguise,
Yet still, my heart wanders northward
To the fields, the trees, the friends now long-lost, But never truly gone.
For it takes a lifetime to grow an old friend,
And even in memory,
We remain interconnected,
Rooted deep in the soil of yesterday,
Waiting for the spring of tomorrow.

Best wishes and thanks to you.

John Graham,
Former Creemore resident