We always said Mom spoke with her eyes.
We turn off the main highway, wondering where the twisted narrow road will lead us.
We watch in fascination as the raging stream tries to send the tree trunk downstream.
Do you remember the ageless flower lady on Syracuse’s Salina Street?
We watched from the bridge as fishermen braved the river’s spring rush.
Do you remember how in early spring we walked in the field, open to the sky?
We head for the garden after the birds wake us early from our late winter slumber.
We dream of lazy ripples on the pond as March teases us with wind and snow.
Do you remember these Moyers Corners farms – now retail sites -discovered in my high school sketchbook?