Drifting in Spiced Cider Wafts

I had meant

to tidy up the old photographs

but instead, 
spent most of the evening
drifting in warm spiced cider wafts
and remnants of bedtime stories –

the kind, my mother used to tell: 

the ordinary stuff-of-life
abracadabra’ed by a magic spell,

until, as the years passed,  
the recollections became
too intrinsic for words.

And so, as had become my way,  
I wandered, in let-it-be
russet and golden orange – 
sweet, as a bitten apple –
October memories;

staring, at length, at long ago
paint-pot dappled snap-shots
that had fallen round me,
like blazing leaves that fluttered
on imaginary autumn breezes

and swept, gently through me,
in wordless reminiscence.

note:  Pictured above is our Matt – almost thirty years ago.  (I believe that is a purple corn cob, he swiped off the Thanksgiving Centerpiece, that has him so engrossed.)   And, Egad!  Speaking of:  “Where do the days go?” – I was floored when I noticed, we’re just a week away from Canada’s Thanksgiving weekend.  (Back in Northern Ontario, by this time of the year, it was anybody's guess whether we’d make it, before the first big dump of snow!)

photos:  Autumn Breezes and Waiting for Thanksgiving Dinner – W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke