~ BITTERSWEET MEMORIES ~

Irishwhistler

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~ BITTERSWEET MEMORIES

She basks in the glow of a warming sun
The long shadows of March cast her presence o’er the greening earth
No smoke bellows from her cold metal stack
The sweet aroma of burning hardwood is absent


Her flaking paint now faded to a red patina dulled by many hard winters
She wears her coat like a badge of honor shrouded by the overgrowth at her feet
The sap buckets once hung throughout the sugar bush are not to be seen


Silence is the survivor of the joyful banter she once housed
The sweet waft of boiling sap no longer permeates her tomb cold interior
She stands defiantly, a testimony to grand days now gone by


Her New England rite of Spring had long fallen dormant
I view her in awe and with a saddened heart
I hear the words of Frost echoing in my ears
“Do not go gentle into that good night”


~ Mike Enright ~
 

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