A time to move on, Elin, he says, and they set sail to England.
The poet sighs as the two slowly walk,
Down a memory lane hand in hand they talk.
Now I am thirty-five and you not younger,
raising a farm family of a boy and two girls.
Tis time to sell all: Derry farm at New England,
this 30-acre farm with pasture land,
green fields, woodlands, orchard, gentle fall,
hen coops, livestock, apple and pear trees all.
Yes, we seem to have lived here all our lives,
Winter, spring, summer and fall foliage drives.
I always liked to sit up all hours of the night,
Sitting by a bush in broad sunlight,
Planning, crafting, formulating the star-splitter,
Going for water an old man’s winter night.
Bumping into two tramps in mud time,
Near stampede by lone gleeful cow flying in apple time.
Hearing a bird singing in its sleep,
Chirping we must leave and sail across the vast blue deep.
Looking for a sunset bird in winter,
Never again would birds’ song be the same or matter.
To England the old country here we come.
Note: I admit this is a rather primitive and ‘impromptu’ attempt made as I imagine how the poet Robert Frost had contemplated when he decided to leave New Hampshire and sail to England. The decision paid off. His poems were published and given recognition. He left America an unknown writer and returned to be hailed a leader of “the new era in American poetry”. The discerning fans of the poet may note that the above attempt included some titles of the poet’s poems.
This months photo challenge in square format from Becky is #timesquare