A Memory

A memory from the past that today i recall
The night the cross on Clara in the storm did fall
The wind from the north did blow loud and strong
And in the tree branches did howl all night long

In the gray dawn the gale was a spent force and the air it was still
But when i looked to the mountain known as Clara Hill
Of the old timber cross just a  stump i could see
A mental picture that lives in my memory

Back then i was well past my physical prime
But since i have lived more than twenty eight years in time
In anyone's language this does seem long ago
And time to the memory often a foe

Local men erected a steel cross where the  timber cross stood
To overlook the fields by Claramore wood
Where male robin to proclaim his borders does sing
In his nesting time in the prime of the Spring

The memory with me remain of that August day
when i looked towards the  hill in the dawn cool and gray
An upright stump of wood all that was to be seen
In the spot where the beautiful old cross had been

Nice memories of what was today i retain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again
And though the now is all that does matter as most would agree
Memories of what was often do come to me.