November 2015 – Warren Milne

Georgian Bay

Summer Calls

Summer calls, come now with me
To place of dream and reverie
Where nature, wind and sunshine dance
with stars and night and soft romance

Rustic cabin in the woods
Where as a child I came
A place to shelter, eat and sleep
And find myself again

Red squirrels frolic in the trees

Dragon flies ride on the breeze

Blue Jays laugh in raucous call

Cicadas sing song, rise and fall

Grassy clearing in the trees
Fire burning in the night
Where golden children laugh and sing
With innocent delight

Down winding path from cabin door
Past juniper and pine
Toward the lake I make my way
Through scent of summertime

Blue world of light and endless space
Where water, sand and sky embrace
Soft clouds lazy on the breeze
Waves dance and sparkle on the seas

Gay umbrellas down the way
Happy children splash and play
Mothers waiting, watchful stand
Lovers walking hand in hand

When darkness falls, the world grows still
And dancing stars the night sky fill

Now I, am left alone to be

Silent before heaven’s mystery
And in this place of summer past
For those who feeling see

Loved ones who once summered here

Still walk among the trees

Algonquin 2015

Warren Milne

August 2015

Sweet languid afternoon

Waves murmur ‘gainst rocky shore

Soft zephyr cools the heat of day

As gentle night begins to fall.

Black velvet sky

Dance of myriad shimmering stars

deep quiet of nature, all around

save for haunting call of loon.

Daylight wakens cloudy morn

This Adam rise to gaze anew

At verdant nature, blue lake and sky

give thought to plan of coming day.

A day of travel, just memory now

paddle easy, wind behind

portage hot and heavy climb

now rest, worn body and numb mind.

Make way ‘neath canopy of trees

Lush green of forest floor

Step careful down on root and rock

Path worn by course of countless feet.

Canoe glide quiet over waves

Breeze blows where’er it will

Paddle pushing ever on

And steering so to keep the way.

World of green, where silent firs

drink air and water, sunlight in

look silent on at pass of time

at peace with deep eternity.

My head is light, I’m feeling weak

lie down awhile, find strength anew

strip off wet clothes, cool rest in swamp

last push to end of weary day.

A day too long

of trial and doubt

faint, hot and weak

sweet place of rest.

Beloved Albert

stayed with my steps

lies down with me

as now with cramping hands I write.

Dawn breaks, cloud and warm

my body rise to meet the day

eat early, careful start to move

go slow, let gentle life restore.

Sweet end of day

long portage in the pouring rain

a time of test, past yesterday’s distress

paddle on through rain to quiet rest.

Blue sky and sun break through

and freshen breeze

to raise my spirits

lift my heart anew.

The clouds are back, light rain too

its colder now, a touch of fall

no appetite, a little sick

turn now to start my journey home.

No strength to write

tired to the bone

where is my native joy

just wanting to be home.

The sun comes up

a glorious day

cool still air

and quiet of dawn.

Prosciutto and melon

olive oil and bread

olives and antipasto

a creature of my hunger.

Last day arrives

long day of portage and canoe

sun beating down

but safely home.

End.

Warren

A QUIET MAN

A quiet man, still tall and strong

With aging grace, he walks along

The road of life that urge him on

To love and feel, ’til breath is gone.

A rugged face, blue searching eyes

Betray his inner anxious side

Unruly hair, still mostly sand

A ready smile and kindly hand.

Simple comfort in his dress

But stylish in his casualness

Presents a well-groomed healthy air

The scent of Guerlain vetiver.

Mind built up o’er many years

Of school and work and artist’ tears

Gives him a sure and grounded sense

Of power and easy confidence.

But there’s a darker side to this

Of drugs and blackness’ deep abyss

Of unloved child in quiet pain

And struggle to the light regain.

With love and pride a family raised

Adults now, going their own ways

A home, a place of quiet rest

And gentle friends with whom he’s blessed.

And deeper loves, sweet bye and bye

Bright comets in the deep night sky

Sing joy for all the world to see

In vastness’ time sweet ecstasy.

Such is the man you see walk on

Down his road to Babylon

A quiet faith in life he holds

It carries him as he grows old.

Homer

My grandparents, Muriel and Homer Brown, were Christian missionaries, in China. This moving letter was written by Muriel, just after the death of her almost 3 year-old son, Homer.

Chungking China Apr 24^th, 1934

My Dear Isabel:-

About noon to-day, Homer slipped quietly away from us, just yesterday our hopes were strong. For over a month he made such a gallant fight and the doctors gave him such splendid service, but the infection was too strong. So quietly he left us, so peaceful he looks in his white silk casket with pink roses at his feet that we cannot think of death as some arch enemy…. God’s messenger sent to take back to him the treasure he had loaned us for nearly three years.

What a treasure he was,, and how I give thanks with my whole Being that we did so thoroughly appreciate and enjoy him while we had him. how little we realized is was for so short a time. He was so intensely alive so filled with the joy of living, so radiant so abounding in energy and love that just to think of him even to-day, saves one from grieving,. We cannot but weep and the tears will often fall during the coming weeks and months, but there will be no bitterness in them.

Concerned in the great joy of your return to us, borne during such months of happiness, — and the wonder of that night I first held him in my arms, and looked into your faces, as you stood about the bed to welcome him, How I love the picture of you three sisters, with dear father holding the light and looking with such love upon us all. Then such a healthy babyhood.

I an sorry you missed this year with him. But of this I am sure. Many a man has lived to a ripe old age, and given less joy than Homer in his short life. He has radiated friendliness and put life and interest into many a drab life, almost daily.. For this and thy mercies we thank Thee, O Lord.

Reincarnation sometimes makes quite an appeal. I like to think of the little fellow starting out again soon, and shedding joy to others as he did to us.

We had a very nice service this morning at eleven. Then the little white silk covered casket was wrapped in an oil sheet and father, Mr. Jones and Mr. McCurdy took what was left of the little dear for his last ride.

It has pleased us much to think of this last ride being with the man who gave him so very many bi bi rides. Mr. Mitchel was always so nice with him, and was so good about making the arrangements for taking him to-day. He flew right by the agency and waved a farewell for the little lad.

The tears are going to flow all too easily, for a time I fear but I can’t feel God minds that a bit, you will shed yours also and then like us will square your shoulders as you adjust them to a little bigger load, that the world may continue to be better because of that little life that shed so much joy these nearly three years.

Be good to Julia.

lovingly so lovingly

Mother