Saturday, November 15, 2014

“Through the Mist” by Gordon Miller

I think of long ago yesterdays
With tears of joy
And sometimes
Thoughts that bring back
The dreams and hopes
That fade and darken
Through the hourglass of time
With weary failing eyes
Dim pictures appear
White clouds drifting
Like castles in the sky
Long lines of trees
Like sentinels
Beside the winding roads
Wooden sidewalks and
Whirlwinds zigzagging
Racing down the dusty sandy streets
A shaggy horse trudging by
Pulling a wagon with high wheels
The driver standing
Holding the reins
The lonesome wail of the whistle blowing
As the white smoke billows high
From the stack of the steam engine
People sitting in the dining car
Eating Winnipeg goldeye
On china plates with sterling silver cutlery
A wave from the porter standing in the door of
The sleeping car as the train speeds by
Clicking of pool balls in the early evening
Men standing in front of the store
Talking laughing swearing
Happy to be home from the
Lumber camps and mines
For a short time
A fishing pole fashioned from a willow branch and a
Thick green line,
Hanging over the pier under the railroad bridge
While the older boys dove from the top
Into the raging white and foamy water
Sitting in school
On a warm spring afternoon
The fragrance of wildflowers
Through the open windows
Watching the slow moving clock
Daydreaming of things to come
In a far away world
 Learning from books
Playing Cowboy and Indians among the trees
The daredevil pilots flying overhead
Looping stalling and steep dives
 In the azure blue sky
Church service on Sunday evening
Singing hymns with the haunting chords
From the foot pumped organ
Passing the graveyard
In the evening
Where crosses mark the places
Children are buried
Heading into the forest with slingshots
Hunting for partridge and rabbits
Cold winter mornings
Heavy frost on the windows
In a drafty old house
Eating porridge
Walking to school through the heavy snow
Skating on the pond
Warning up around the bonfire
Smoking cattails
Until the heavy snow covers the ice
Tobogganing down the hills
Through snow laden trees
This time has passed
And we move along
Faded memories
From another time
So bittersweet
They make me laugh and cry

Gordon Miller is a visual artist and writer, living in Oakville. He is taking creative writing courses in Brian’s classes for the past two years, and enjoying every minute of them. He is almost finished a mystery novel and is hoping to publish a book
of short stories. His poem, ‘Through the Mist’ is the first place winner – adult category, in The James McIntyre poetry contest. Visit Gord at

See Brian Henry’s schedule here, including writing workshops and creative writing courses in Barrie, Brampton, Bolton, Burlington, Caledon, Cambridge, Collingwood, Georgetown, Guelph, Hamilton, Kingston, London, Midland, Mississauga, Newmarket, Niagara on the Lake, Orillia, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Stouffville, Sudbury, Toronto, Halton, Kitchener-Waterloo, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.