Lemon-yellow, crisp orange,
cranberry and sugar snap green,
sparkle beneath a deluge of dappled light
poured forth from sky's blue pitcher.
I wade in this autumn sea,
backstroke through memories
of mountains raked, bodies flopping,
burrowing, giggling - barking, digging,
rescuing; of maple helicopter races;
a pony's fuzzy warm muzzle.
Wonder at today's silence, its stillness.
by Margaret Bednar, November 24, 2013
This is for Friday Flash 55. Langsyne is a Scottish word (I think) and it means times long past, especially those fondly remembered.
Where are the children? We would play outside all day on a crisp fall day. Ride horses, build forts, rake leaves. Growing up I had a dog, Sugar, who loved to play hide and seek. My best hiding spot was in a pile of leaves. She finally found me because I was giggling.