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Thursday, 10 February 2011

The Wooden Bench

By Lyn Burnstine of The Lynamber Times

Bench

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.

Icy Branches

Winter Woods


[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

Comments

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

I love it ! Thanks for the thoughts and pictures that calm my soul ...

How beautiful. Lyn, thank you for enriching my day.

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.

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.

Lovely. The written and visual descriptions were just perfect. I fell in love with the bench.

Thank you all, the poor bench is buried under a five-foot mound of snow this winter--we may not see it till May!

Lyn,

I loved this. It brought tears to me eyes...

Wonderful writing...

Thank you, Nancy.

Absolutely beautiful. I bet the bench needs a winter rest too so I'm not feeling too sorry for it.

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

Thank you, Marcia and Norma. Norma, I like to think of your mother and you sitting on "our" bench.

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

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