~ Winter Caribou ~

          In honor of Mary Ann Kittell & Her Son

                 Who Led the Local Opera House for Many Years

                 Who was and is a Friend to many

 

To a son I never knew, I give this poem ever true. 
     
For though we might be blue--our emotions to subdue--  
              I bid you to look anew, at the fleet-footed caribou.

 

Never one is she to detest, nor too quick to make a coarse jest.  
When feeding, she does her best;  when tired and weak, she does rest.
Quick is she to hear a behest;  but never one to bid protest.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind oh so fast--

       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.

 

When winter crowds dark and cold, she searches hard to unfold  
A warm, cheery song from of old, for low spirits to uphold;  
Diligently . . . to behold, she musters her family, oh, so bold.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind so fast--  
       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.

 

The reindeer like caribou, no snow or musty avenue,  
Can make her once misconstrue or steal away a single hue  
From a heart full with virtue--so kind and unshakably true.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind so fast--  
       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.  

When thoughts push back to yesteryear, in her eye a tear will appear.  
For many times she did hear . . . that rustling of her son so dear.  
Through the snow a path she would clear . . . to be with her son, her dear.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind so fast--  
       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.  
 

Fleetingly run high, run quick, . . . over a candle and a stick--  
Nostalgia begs time to tick--the caribou must kick and kick,  
Against that grief so very thick:  Double-back and double-quick.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind so fast--  
       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.  
 

A long year has now gone by, looking beyond that broad sky--  
Looking into her boy's eye--one more tear from one more cry,  
A caribou does sit and sigh, crowded with loved ones all nearby.

 

    Memories of that son now past . . . come across the mind oh so fast--  
       Here and there a venue vast . . . with a tug, the heart downcast.  
 

At home now with family bold, the caribou with hand to hold,  
    A daughter fawn to uphold, the return of a deed of old,  
        The love of family does unfold, soft to touch like solid gold.

                              by  M.G. Maness, New Years Day, 1996

 

~ Click Here to e-mail me at:  MG@PreciousHeart.net ~