Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Princess, Me And Leaves

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‘Twas just a simple lesson, on that farm outside of town,
With Mrs. Schultz, my teacher. She, who smiled, and never frowned.
And there, on her piano, I’d perform the things I’d learn.
And she would nod and smile and then, my lesson, she’d adjourn.

Now, while I waited patiently for little brother’s chance
To play the Shultz piano, and let his fingers dance,
I had time to leave the house and wander in the yard,
With Schultz’s collie, Princess, by my side, to act as guard.

Now, the farm was very pretty with its rows and rows of trees,
That at this autumn time of year, were losing all their leaves.
When me and Princess wandered out, the air was crisp and sweet,
 The leaves were thick and crunchy, formed a carpet ‘neath our feet.

And there, we romped and played, until my Mom roared up the drive,
And I knew the time for me to go had finally arrived,
Then running, knee deep, through those leaves to head back to the house,
I kicked up a leafy storm (and a family of grouse).

And as I climbed into the car, leaves tangled in my hair,
Mom stared at me, then asked to know what I’d been up to there.
I entertained her with the quests of Princess Dog and me,
Our explorations through the leaves from Mrs. Schultz’s trees.

All this was fifty years ago; I was much younger then.
But, when in fall, I smell the smells, I’m right back there again.
The tangy air, the muffled sounds, the lofty, giant trees,
When for a little time, the world was: Princess, me. And leaves.

Each month, Karen of Baking in a Tornado gathers her group of poets and issues a challenge.
This month's theme?
The Joys of Fall
Apt. Very apt.
Well played, Karen . . .

See what the others have created!

Karen of Baking In A Tornado: The Joys of Fall 
Dawn of Cognitive Script: Indian Summer Jubilation 
Lydia of Cluttered Genius: The Joy of Fall 

8 comments:

  1. I'm so jealous of the way you always tell a story with your poetry. I can just see you running to the car with leaves in your hair.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was the combing out of said leaves that left the largest memories! :)

      Delete
  2. I love this poem, thank you Diane! This morning while out with the doggies, I watched as they watched leaves fall (from only the force of gravity since there was no wind) from the maple in the back yard. Then, BOING!! Both leapt up and began several laps of the yard, flinging leaves in every direction! I didn't join them because...poop, ya know! And THAT'S buried everywhere under that red and orange carpet of dog joy!

    ReplyDelete
  3. You've really evoked my own memories of fall with this poem, Diane. There's just something about the air, the colours and the smells that shout out the change of seasons.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thank you for taking us back with you.

    ReplyDelete

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