Thursday, 10 February 2011
The Wooden Bench
By Lyn Burnstine of The Lynamber Times
I am the bench under the horse chestnut tree.
I sit lonely and unused in the winter.
My seat is often buried inches deep in snow.
I give no comfort or solace to walkers when the icy winds blow;
they scurry on to their warm cozy homes.
Even the birds and squirrels ignore me
to seek out the shelter of bushes and trees nearer the warm building.
I miss the company of all my summer friends.
With the first balmy spring days, my sun-warmed
wooden seat will welcome sitters:
walkers who need to rest their feet,
on the mile-long loop road;
the lady with the little dog to whom she chatters;
the silent lady who writes.
The silent lady sits under the tree for inspiration,
with a pen and tablet in hand.
Sometimes, because I am not kind to her sciatica,
she stretches out on her back and gazes up through the leaves.
Sometimes she holds in her hand a camera or an opera glass
to see the birds and leaves more clearly.
Soon I’ll no longer be lonely.
Maybe some of the people will come in twos or threes,
sitting down to tell each other their life stories,
a wealth of years and memories.
I will listen to their wisdom.
[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]
Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post
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Lyn - Great writing. terrific pictures!
But, I must remember to be more careful with what I say and do the next time I am sitting on a park bench. (It may come back to haunt me!) - Sandy
Posted by: Sandy | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 07:00 AM
I love it ! Thanks for the thoughts and pictures that calm my soul ...
Posted by: Pat Rogers | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 07:59 AM
How beautiful. Lyn, thank you for enriching my day.
Posted by: Brenda | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 08:49 AM
Just beautiful. Every time I sit on a park bench I'll remember your descriptions of that bench and hope I am making it less lonely.
Posted by: Johna Ferguson | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 08:50 AM
There are a few benches in the little park across from my apartment in Colorado where I used to meet my neighbors last fall, one who played the flute for me, but are now covered with 5 inches of snow. How soon will the warm sun come out and warm the benches again and bring old and new friends out again? Joe.
Posted by: j. doak | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 10:15 AM
Lovely. The written and visual descriptions were just perfect. I fell in love with the bench.
Posted by: Mary B Summerlin | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 01:45 PM
Thank you all, the poor bench is buried under a five-foot mound of snow this winter--we may not see it till May!
Posted by: Lyn Burnstine | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 06:45 PM
Lyn,
I loved this. It brought tears to me eyes...
Wonderful writing...
Posted by: Nancy | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 08:46 PM
Thank you, Nancy.
Posted by: Lyn Burnstine | Thursday, 10 February 2011 at 08:57 PM
Absolutely beautiful. I bet the bench needs a winter rest too so I'm not feeling too sorry for it.
Posted by: Marcia Mayo | Friday, 11 February 2011 at 01:58 AM
Because I'm intimateliy acquainted with that tree and bench it spoke to me in a special way. I sat there with my mother so many times in happier times for her. Think I will read it to her on Sunday. Norma
Posted by: Norma Shore | Friday, 11 February 2011 at 06:21 PM
Thank you, Marcia and Norma. Norma, I like to think of your mother and you sitting on "our" bench.
Posted by: Lyn Burnstine | Monday, 14 February 2011 at 08:14 AM
Wonderful way to look at the world..I will replace "smell the coffee" with "notice the bench." Life is always out there for all of us, isn't it, nice writing to ponder it with...Thanks..Mary
Posted by: Mary Follett | Sunday, 20 February 2011 at 11:54 AM