Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

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



Monday, July 24, 2017

There in the Trees

For Poetry Monday, a poem about past vacations . . .


Each summer, since the dawn of time,
We’d pack our kids and dogs and gear
With plans to spend a week, sublime
And frolic with the bears and deer.

For camping was our family ‘thing’,
Anticipated through the year,
And, oh, what praises they would sing
When finally, the time was here.

We parents’d sit beside the fire
And eat and laugh and shoot the breeze,
While younger legs who’d never tire
Would charge together through the trees.

With shouts and laughter as they ran,
Or giggles, hopefully suppressed.
‘Hide and Seek’ and ‘Kick the Can’
And ‘Find the Flag’ and all the rest.

When daylight waned, called back to camp
To spend a moment round the flames.
And crown the glowing, happy champs,
Then plan for the Tomorrow's games.

What fun to hear those voices shout,
And watch their progress through the trees.
To see them scurrying about
On fleetest feet; or hands and knees.
Time’s gone by. It’s what it does.
And still we’re camping in the trees.
But something’s missing now, because
There’s silence floating on the breeze.

We parent’s camp, as we have done,
With tales to tell and wood to hew,
But in the trees, there is no one,
No voices yelling, “I’ve found you!”

We tell ourselves it’s peaceful, true,
As restful as someone could wish,
We do the things we want to do,
Like eat and nap and swim and fish.

At night, we stare into the flames
And talk about the times long past.
When woods would ring with noisy games
And summer days forever last.

But now our kids are raising theirs.
And time’s a thing that’s hard to find,
And spending days with deer and bear’s
A priority that’s far behind.

Oh, what I’d give for one more day,
When simple fun brought endless joy,
When games would pass the time away,
And woods would echo with the noise.

Mondays are for poetry!
Head on over to Delores' or Jenny's and see what their Monday is like!
And come back next Monday and hear all about Kindness!
And come back tomorrow for more glimpses into Mom's journals!

14 comments:

  1. Ah, I hear you, Diane. The feeling is the same year-round in our house. The growing up years had lots of hard spots, but I so miss the young voices in the house. Ack. Now I'm tearing up. Thank you for this lovely poem.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And now I'm tearing up!
      Thank you for liking it!

      Delete
  2. That brought back lovely memories of our camping trips. Why did life get so busy all of a sudden that there was no time for fun anymore.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Poignant and lovely. Even for this childless person who HATED camping.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I totally love this and a bit melancholy about your theme although the poetry is great! We too noticed we were camping with more dogs than kids and then more adults than kids. The same stories we tell of these memories to each other and now there are fewer of us to share.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That slow forward march of time. But it leaves such memories in its wake . . .

      Delete
  5. I was talking about the noisy, wonderful days gone by and the more quiet days of today with my brother. I miss that noise and sometimes long for it, but there is something wonderful about the quiet also and having time to reflect on those precious times that make us smile.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You are so right! I need to appreciate the silence now. And the opportunity to remember. Living in the moment. I have such a hard time with it!

      Delete
  6. A great poem, your words are just so right!

    All the best Jan

    ReplyDelete
  7. Whether vacation to you means a trip to the beach in the warm months of summer or a snowy getaway in winter, these vacation poems take you on a trip to ...
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    ReplyDelete

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