The smell of smoke from a wood fire -

Applewood, hickory, pine -

Wafts across the ridge

Shadows lengthening in the late afternoon

Overhead, sun-dappled leaves remaining on limbs -

Orange, red, gold -

Rustle in a light breeze

Some detaching and drifting earthward

Whilst dried remains already fallen to ground -

Brown, crumbling, snapping -

Crackle beneath my boots

As I amble deeper into the forest

I am, for a moment, transported in time

To earlier days of youth

Hiking the woods with my father

Hunting squirrels in the tree tops

I linger there

Enjoying his company

In the warm embrace

And comfort of nostalgia

‘Twas not the hunt

For I was not much of a hunter

But rather than companionship

Shared between boy and man

After I time, I am returned to the present

In the deepening gloom of twilight

And, turning, begin my descent from the heights

Returning once again home

Renewed by Autumn’s glorious majesty

And warm memories

Of a time spent in love

By Mike Turner

From: United States

Website: http://www.MikeTurnerSongwriter.com

Twitter: SchoonerSkipper

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/MikeTurnerSongwriter