Another Kind of Winter Count

Down along the windbreak across the road,

Where little hedge apples fell

Onto the back of

Not a rack, but just some old

Cart there

We’d watch the green day turn to

Rose as the sun set, often orange in those

Long ago summers. 
And even when

The nighttime came on,

We could see by the

Dark lit sky,

And home was where

The grand willow

Was the only architecture

In that large back yard,

Before our mother’s lilac hedge kept out the pasture.

In an early dark

I think how I don’t want

To forget a lot of things,

So many memories, so many stories.

I am taking my winter count.