Summer Days

I stand here before the homestead
That we as youngsters knew;
I see the scenes of yesteryear
Come bobbing into view.
How I loved the days of summer
When changes came about
That left no time for loneliness
Or sorrowing or doubt.

I loved the early morning sun;
Fresh buds with dewdrops in their eyes;
Richly fragrant, balmy breezes
Waltzing o'er the cloudless skies;
Butterflies dancing over flowers;
The buzz of bees upon a rose;
A streamlet bubbling o'er the rocks,
Beneath the green willows in repose.

We children raced through waving fields
Of daisies blooming bright
And went to bed when cricket songs
Broke through the mist of night.
Sweet aromas from the kitchen,
Where Grandma made the jam,
Blend with thoughts of the swimming hole
Where we, for hours, played.

Soap-making day, the kettle hung
Above a fire outdoors;
Each one of us was asked to help
With morn and evening chores.
Each summertime when I return
Recalling days of yore,
I still see our old home and friends,
Just as they were before.

~ Shirley Sallay