Remembering school mornings, listening awake;
Hearing someone chopping wood by the lake,
Then emptying ashes from last night's burn,
Smelling hot porridge to start the day's turn.
"Wake up, school," her voice echoing upstairs,
"It's cold out, find your socks and wear two pairs."
Quickly dressing with sleep still in my eyes,
Petting the dog and saying my good-byes.

Felt boots crunching on the frozen snow road,
walking alone, and carrying my school bag load.
Thirty below quickening my tingling pace,
breathing through a wool scarf wrapped round my face.
Long miles creeping by as farm kids joined in,
talking hockey, "Did the Canadians win?"
"Rocket Richard scored a breakaway goal,"
Stopping to chuck rocks at a hydro pole.

Starting each morning aligning for prayers,
Singing the anthem then walking up stairs.
Separating into our wisdom rooms
Smelling of new crayons, chalk, and oil fumes.
The final school bell ringing always at four
Overdressed puppets rushing for the door.
North winds blowing following snowdrifts home,
Darkness comes, walking the last mile alone.

The warm amber of a coal fire glow,
Smoke bouncing off the roof heavy with snow.
Bright stars blazing on a blackening night,
Snowflakes glittering in the full moons light.
Dimming the lamps, leaving a coal oil smell
Hearing dogs barking outside by the well,
The creaking stairs meant one was not asleep:
Listening from my pillow...I hear her weep.