October's Winds
Poem by Norma Beaird
I remember grandma’s cabin,
and the seasoned cast iron griddle,
cooking cornbread in the saved grease,
while my grandpa played the fiddle.
They were far away from cities,
in the old growth Georgia pines,
listening to the morning songbirds,
as the sun began to shine.
The October winds were howling,
perking coffee filled the air,
grandma’s patchwork quilt was handy,
on the maple rocking chair.
For the wind was rather chilly,
logs were placed upon the fire,
as the sound of crackling embers,
burned in me a true desire.
To remember moments like this,
that are simple, pure and sweet,
not distracted by the takers,
motivated by their greed.
For those most controlled by money,
and possessions they must own,
don’t find pleasure in the small things,
and their hearts are made of stone.
On her wooden antique nightstand,
laid the Bible old and worn,
scriptures underlined with pen marks,
names of family members born.
The October winds were howling,
on this chilly autumn day,
God’s warm presence filled the cabin,
as she spoke of love and faith.
Worldly folks are tired and troubled,
not content with bread or gold,
only satisfied with mansions,
and the power and control.
What they need are weekly visits,
to a cabin in the pines,
listening to a gray-haired grandma,
pray and sing with peace of mind.
Though I don’t have golden treasures,
or the wealth of many men,
I found faith in grandma’s cabin,
in October’s howling winds.
Copyright 2014, Norma Beaird. All rights reserved.
