The Thoughts Of 'then' Poem by Lynn W. Petty

To My Friend, Brad Wilson

Do you remember when...when we were boys? We lived out in the country on a farm. You were living on the flat and even Texas plains, and I lived deep within the huddled hills of Michigan, our lives were very much the same; two farmer boys who had their work to do, who lived their lives with unencumbered cares, unburdened by concerns of worldly things.
In this, my later life, I find my mind returning to the thoughts of 'then', when I was young. The reel of recollection rewinds time, projecting on the screen of memory those images of past, forgotten years. I sit before the hearth and sip the wine of age, and fan the dying coals of youth into a friendly-flame, remembering with warmth, those years of innocence.
Recall, will you, the musty smell of soil at rain's first fall; the breath of earth just turned by plow's sharp pointed edge? And, spring the child of season, born from winter's womb, exploding into bud and bloom, to waft its fresh and sweet perfume onto a lazy drift of soundless, midnight air.

There is no moon so full as is a country moon that crests the hilly ridges, full and bright to bathe the meadow grasses with its liquid light. Or, on a winter's night, its moony glow refracts like frozen fire without flame, to flood the stainless fields of snow with icy hues of chilling, lambent, heatless heat.
But, what cared I, all bundled up with scarf and muffs,
protected from the numbing chill, as I would glide across
the skating pond, alone, through tinctured veils of solitude,
cleaved only by the cutting sound of skater's blades on ice.
I recall those sunsets of my boyhood summertime,
when all the work and chores were done, I sat upon the porch
and watched the bubble-sun sink silently behind the sloping hills.
The gentle shadows stealthy creep would turn the atmosphere into a pensive blush of plum and rose. Drenched in summer's silence, when evening's calm hung mute upon the ear, broken only by the mellow-throated larks, whose song sounds circled through the air like ripples on a still and placid lake did we, in all humility, take the day from God and praise Him for His perfect gift, a rich, abundant, fragrant land.