With-In My Heart

Today...I came to find,
The old home...in reality.
The past...had left the years,
And had a part in making me.

T'was then...I was young,
But now...I am grown.
And still the imprints stay,
That early life has sown.

Now...my step is slow,
As in those days of yore.
But well I know the part,
That life had in its store.

And surely it was today,
That I came to the hills.
To find the little spring,
That down the canyon spills.

Be still my heart...to climb,
In long, uneven strides.
As a gentle breeze came up,
And softly tossed my hair aside.

Bringing perfume from the sage,
And making by bosom swell.
To fill my soul...deep down,
With than enchanting smell.

A lone, brown-bird arose,
And escaped the silent hush.
Leaving a nest of speckled eggs,
In the near-by under-brush.

I loved the red of slide-rock,
The green, the grey, the white.
The crystal, snow-capped mountains,
All nestled to the right.

The stillness of creation,
Manifested many joys.
O that these few moments,
Could be free...of man-made noise.

I climbed...up to a clearing,
My being so intense.
When all at once...I seemed to see,
A far-off broken fence.

This had been...our garden,
And now the sage grew high.
My heart was right for bursting,
My breath was just a sigh.

The flowers on the hill-side,
Turned faces...just my way.
As violets on the stream-lets edge,
Showed up from where they lay.

The ever-guarding cliff above,
So masterful...to stand.
As I slipped by so closely,
And gently laid...my hand.

On-ward up the canyon,
Each step...a memory.
With eyes pinned on a vision,
Beside a cedar-tree.

There it was before me,
With poles all pushed about.
Time-worn...with roof caved-in,
That once...was our dug-out.

A split-pole front was standing,
Its door on leather swung.
O You...used in another age,
Unloose your silent tongue.

O You...time stained and tumbled,
Where memories fondly cling.
Could you know what feeling,
This day...will surely bring?

With axe-marks on your aged logs,
With debris on your floor.
And guiding o'er the very top,
Creeps a lizard on your door.

O You...O You, as I pull away,
And look down o'er the hill.
Why do...I force myself to go,
With-out sufficient fill?

I know...t'is true...so very true,
With no more time to share.
That when I go...I'll always know,
A part...of my heart...is there.


E.P. 1908 - 1989


Family - This is how the dug-out looked today. The stone is still in place - not touched - still shining. Beautiful...I also left "with-out sufficient fill."