Post by Atlantis5 on Jul 21, 2008 12:16:35 GMT -7
A season past, I was to conduct a survey photo shoot in this area of Twisp. It is a sister city to an up river town of Wintrop. The Wintrop township, is a historic gold mining settlement of the late 1800s of reconstruction into a tourist area. The township resides within a valley formed between rugged high hill side covered by pine and grass. The high hills are the foot hills of some very rugged mountains as of Canada.
I was of struck by the area natural beauty and friendly manner of the residents, I was to on-line be of receipt of their valley indigenous news paper. Whilst reading this of today issue, I was struck by an included poem. I would wish to share with you this poem. If not appreciated or of waste of web page, I will then remove in deletion.
Charles
Poet's Corner
----Old Porch Swing----
Some folks might say – about our swing,
"It’s just an old and rusting thing,"
but I remember all the ways
that old porch swing would fill our days
Upon that swing now hanging still,
moon rising o’er the distant hill,
Mama rested – sipping tea,
and sang sweet lullabies to me
With silent rocking, dreams were sought
on summer days when it was hot,
games we played while resting there,
chess and checkers moved on squares
Women gathered ‘round the swing,
to share the latest gossiping,
while sewing patches on our jeans,
or maybe popping garden beans
Men returning from the field
would wait there for the evening meal,
at end of day – their work complete,
old Rex, our dog, lay at their feet
Granny, sometimes shedding tears,
recalling friends lost through the years,
would pass the hours on our porch
swinging gently back and forth
We courted on that creaking swing,
first love softly blossoming,
sneaking kisses in the night
veiled in shadows of moonlight
Worn and weathered that old seat
has served us well – its use replete,
we now rock babes with curly hair,
soothing them with loving care
Remembering yet those days of old,
in summer heat or winter cold,
how we chanced to tarry there
making memories we could share.
–Tamara Dicus Hillman
Tamara Dicus Hillman, born and raised in Twisp, lives on Camano Island. She has published several books of poetry and performs on country radio stations.
I was of struck by the area natural beauty and friendly manner of the residents, I was to on-line be of receipt of their valley indigenous news paper. Whilst reading this of today issue, I was struck by an included poem. I would wish to share with you this poem. If not appreciated or of waste of web page, I will then remove in deletion.
Charles
Poet's Corner
----Old Porch Swing----
Some folks might say – about our swing,
"It’s just an old and rusting thing,"
but I remember all the ways
that old porch swing would fill our days
Upon that swing now hanging still,
moon rising o’er the distant hill,
Mama rested – sipping tea,
and sang sweet lullabies to me
With silent rocking, dreams were sought
on summer days when it was hot,
games we played while resting there,
chess and checkers moved on squares
Women gathered ‘round the swing,
to share the latest gossiping,
while sewing patches on our jeans,
or maybe popping garden beans
Men returning from the field
would wait there for the evening meal,
at end of day – their work complete,
old Rex, our dog, lay at their feet
Granny, sometimes shedding tears,
recalling friends lost through the years,
would pass the hours on our porch
swinging gently back and forth
We courted on that creaking swing,
first love softly blossoming,
sneaking kisses in the night
veiled in shadows of moonlight
Worn and weathered that old seat
has served us well – its use replete,
we now rock babes with curly hair,
soothing them with loving care
Remembering yet those days of old,
in summer heat or winter cold,
how we chanced to tarry there
making memories we could share.
–Tamara Dicus Hillman
Tamara Dicus Hillman, born and raised in Twisp, lives on Camano Island. She has published several books of poetry and performs on country radio stations.