Autumn’s Child

Dressed in tatters,

Patched with scraps,

The orphan child

Came howling.

His cries shook

My windowpane,

Wails of mourning

Tore at his garment

Until he stood naked.

Eyes filled with sorrow

And terror and heartache,

He whispered but one

Word.  Mother.

The brittle sound

Of his wavering voice

Touched my heart

With its icy breath.

I welcomed him home

And opened the door,

Warming him at my

Hearth.

∞

“I knew your mother

before she was born.

Before her first song

was heard by the birds,

She silently slept

In the land of dreams

Where all is known

And all is love

And all is peace

And all is truth.

Until, one day,

She breathed a sigh,

Awakening

The sleeping Earth.

Seeds burst forth

That very day

And all Creation

Joined the dance

Of Life Renewed.”

He nestled in,

Expectantly.

∞

“I watched her dance

As the land turned lush,

And green and

Growing in the sun.

The warmth of her

Love called forth

The flowers.

Nestlings hatched

and chirped and flew.

And plants bore fruit

To feed them all.

You danced with her.

Do you remember?

How she would

Take you in her arms

And hold you close

Against her heart

And spin and spiral

Through the town

Until the moon would

Sing you off to sleep.”

∞

He stirred, then nestled

Closer, as my hand

Reached down to

Touch his brow,

To brush away the tousled hair

That hid the beauty of his face.

“I knew her when

She came, like you,

An orphan crying

At my door.

I held her close

And dried her tears

And told her stories

Of the days when

Your grandmother was a child.

Until remembering

Gave her peace.”

Knowingly, he smiled at me.

Deep within my snow-white blanket,

I wrapped him in the dreams of Home.

© Pamela Stead Jones 2011