Wood Smoke on the Winters Air

Wood smoke drifting on the winter’s air assails my nose with memories

The pungent smell,  so strong-so sweet…lingers in my heart on this cool night breeze

It awakes such memories:

Of the years of my youth long gone gone by,

of my mother baking home made bread

Of kindling stacked in a box by the stove,

of matches made with a sulphur head

Of an old chopping block in our back yard,

of an axe-blade always sharp and bright

Of a wood-box filled inside the porch,

of the snow that too often fell at night

Of a small pot-bellied parlour stove,

of our wet mittens hung to dry close by

Of Grandpa’s pipe and Dad’s home brew beer,

of boiling pots of tea, oh my, oh my

Of Christmas stockings hung with hope,

of roast turkeys and hams of the holidays

Of laughter and songs and mistletoe,

of yes, our childhood home in so many ways

Now I’m off to bed with my forced air furnace, I’m glad it will adjust the heat  alone

But still I’m thankful for that whiff of smoke that let me see again…my childhood home!