From another day
and far away
soft memories like ghosts
float through my mind
and ruffle my soul.

A love of simple things,
long summer days,
kind people with flaws,
baby goats, big dogs.

Our young eyes saw everything.
We noticed small changes
and wondered at beginnings.
We studied it all..
And loved all we saw.

It formed our bones and it became us–
the songs, the sounds, the smells,
ashes from old fires, rusty barbed wire,
stored in a heart made large for memories.
It was our life.

And through it all,
the spreading oak bowed low
to show a resurrection fern,
its message from the past
saying it is never too late.
We can always go home.