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PROFESSIONAL CATEGORY FIRST PLACE POETRY Glowing Embers Sherry A. Hundley 443 North 750 East Orem, Utah 84057 To this old town where I was born, I've come again to think and reminisce, re-living days of yesteryear- of Grandma's rolls and Grandpa's whiskered kiss. A meadowlark is trilling in the field, the sheep and lambs are bleating in the lane; I hear the distant clinking of a cowbell upon the whispered wind that smells of rain. Then through the mist, a cabin comes to view, a pioneer mother holds her babe and softly weeps; the fifth of her children to die of the fever, she'll lay him in the ground before she sleeps. she rode the waves and walked the dusty plain; beneath the searing sun she bore her child, then carried him through wind and blinding rain! I do not know the pain she had to bear, nor if she loved or sorrowed more than I, I only know with faith we carry on, and long to hear the lark before we die. Its song is more a feeling than a sound, like glowing embers when the fire burns low; Yet, see... another log has caught the glow! Source: Family histories. 92 |
