Thoughts Of My Grandfather

Thoughts of my grandfather mingle with the wind’s sad cadence, as it shakes my windows.

Acorns, fur cohns and conkers strew the forest floor. Many have fallen from the branches which overhang the pavement.

The feel of nature’s bounty in my coat pockets as I walk home. Conkers to be put away in drawers to harden, acorns for planting in grandfather’s garden.

You told me that weather cohns (you called the fur’s fruit that, or do I confuse the seeds with those of the pine tree?) open to signify fine weather and close to portend storms. Was it an old wive’s tale?

The acorn I planted in the garden which grew into a tree. You didn’t have the heart to tell me that, by chance a weed had rooted where, I hoped an oak would stand. .

I still have your cufflinks in a box, safe in a drawer.

9 thoughts on “Thoughts Of My Grandfather

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.