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by Dee Walmsley
see images of uncut grass whispering in the wind, green fields, flecked
with wild flowers, a painter’s palette of brilliant yellows, reds and
white. Of air perfumed with pine, rose and honeysuckle. Images of rabbits
hopping, mixing brown and green as they bounce through the grass to their
burrows and of deer tails flashing, as they bound away into the woodlot.
mind continues to conjure up images. A log cabin, smoke gently curling
into the air from its stone chimney, welcomes the weary traveler. The
smell of wet woolen mittens hanging near the hearth invades my nostrils
bringing childhood memories back from the deep recesses of my mind. I am
surrounded by the sounds of the saucy squirrels, downy woodpeckers and off
on the lake, the mournful cry of the loon, enters my soul.
they are only images, now contaminated as cars continue their endless
pilgrimages polluting my mind and environment along the way.
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