Frost Never Imagined
by Marcel Aime Duclos

The woods are lovely, dark and deep
beyond the rolling meadow there,
slow river lapping aged roots
of solid oaks by graveyard stones.

Four generations toiled this land.
The wood’s new growth stands dark and deep.
Did yield to chainsaw and sharp ax
providing lumber, firewood

for cooking stove, well-seasoned logs
to feed the fireplace at night
when winter woods were dark and deep.
Thus ebbed the years of calm and joy.

Now in the era of the Net
no offspring of that clan lays claim
to walk this sacred ground and bless
the woods still lovely, dark and deep.



 

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