Treetops and Stars
As a young boy growing up in New Hampshire
I used to go to bed at night
listening to the peeping of the aquatic life in the pond.
The moonlight painted the treetops
and the stars were always visible and bright.
The warm summer air would whistle through my window screen
and an occasional mosquito would find its way in.
The air was damp and dew dripped
from the needles of the nearby white pine and spruce.
It was in this coastal community
where I began to find my way.
As I grew older
I left my boyhood home and moved south to Massachusetts.
Things were a little different than I was used to.
The peeping at night was replaced
by fire truck sirens, cars horns and choppers overhead.
My treetops and stars were replaced
by the twinkling lights illuminating the skyscrapers
built with brick and beams, and the constant stream of jets
following a similar flight path into Logan.
I think back to the winter months
when the days were shorter and the air was cold and raw.
The leaves were off the trees,
and the wind just whipped through
and the marshes had a coating of ice
that rose and fell with the tides.
The noise was minimal except for the distant wind chimes
that echoed my favorite tune.