is far, far away,
Hundreds of miles
north of the city
(and a great deal
farther from my home
in the California desert );
We drove four an a half hours
from the city of Niagara,
to reach the old road
that leads deep
into the woods;
Finally , we came to a
here was a cabin,
surrounded by trees.
two old apple trees grow
The only sound you hear
is that of the wind
rustling through the treetops.
Remnants of an old settlement
can be found here and here,
and traces of a barn
and some horse shoes.
it’s quiet and isolated;
one marvels at the solitude
and soft chirp of birds in the trees.
Walking in the woods in the morning,
we’d find traces of deer and bear
visitors in the night. My friend Sharon,
the owner of Prue’s patch, is undeterred
by the traces of nighttime visitors and perhaps
a little annoyed by her city visitor’s reluctance
to venture too far from the cabin. But, on the other
hand, I am completely at ease, sitting by a window,
sipping tea and writing poetry in my notebook.
Prue’s Patch provides much inspiration.
It also reminded me of the wooded areas all around
my childhood home in Cincinnati, where my brothers,
girlfriend Patty and our younger brothers visited the
nearest woods with picnic lunches in the summer time
and other woods close to my grandmother’s home, where
my cousin and I explored on summer days. We had such
Thank you, Sharon, for the visit of a lifetime.
This one’s for you.
Sandra Lee Smith
originally composed, August 2009,
Updated July 11, 2018