Treasure Island

Jim Manning


In the autumn of our lives, we came together slowly:
A chance meeting, our first walk in the forest,
beginning at dawn with Venus lighting our way.

Over winter, walking icy terrain under snow tented
trees, you eased your hand inside my arm and
a warm intimacy spread throughout my being;

that lingered on into early summer wind and sun—
where pendulous columbine flaunt its colors above
a gleaming creek. Along undulating slopes,

morning sun flames flowers; yellow, light blue and
red in wallflower, bumblebee penstemon and paint brush.

Late autumn brought reverie under shades of oak,

near-invisible threads glimmered from nocturnal bottom fog.

Time to listen to the sounds of creation:
Seeds from the pine cone falling through
the heavy morning air onto rich forest soil.

Now during the winter of our lives, the bitter cold
months, the snow filled months, are reserved for

Reading, writing, remembrances.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 25, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Remberance by Jim Manning )

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  • Gajanan Mishra (4/24/2013 9:02:00 AM)

    Time to listen to the sounds of creations. good work.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment. (Report) Reply

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