Somewhere in April

-This poem, was published in the Jacksonville Times Paper, Jacksonville, Alabama, in April of 1990, and was dedicated to Priscilla Mc Collum. The place, was called Hearthstone. The time... will never come again, and will never be forgotten. -dc

-The Aderholdt Mill/ Jacksonville, Alabama/ Present day.

-Here, through the many miles we walked and explored, we took but one path, where from we noticed the very small, yet wonderful things that life offers, that through many eyes, are unseen. It was time though, of looking back and remembering—always seeking one another’s supportive smiles, and sometimes too, forgiveness. It was a time of laughter, and celebration, but also a time of learning, and self growth. And through our own compassion, we found a very unique strength in ourselves, and for each other, that only we understood. And somewhere between all that is right, and wrong, and that which is lived, and felt, we came to find ourselves, and counted each other, when others would not. It was here, we found hidden, the many windows in our souls, and it is here, that now, we look back …. and remember, home. -David T. Culver

Somewhere in April

It is here, where I and the window speak—
Where clouds have danced on mountain peaks
And gusty winds leave them all but streaked,
Like cotton balls in the sky.

From here, I’ve seen across the way
In the shade of willows, black birds play
And there where hidden, their nestings stay,
Abandoned by the young to fly.

In meadows green, as green could be,
Stretched as far as the eyes to see,
Of age, stands still a great oak tree
Telling of summers passed.

Cloaked in leaves of brown and green—
There secluded, only few have seen,
For that which lies so far between
Takes one’s eyes, the winter grass.

Yet far too soon the night will come—
Forgotten by many, remembered by some,
An Eden of beauty, and thus becomes
A twilight of yellow, gray

. Perhaps a painter would stand in awe,
To perch an easel with intent to draw
But never quite catch what once I saw
On the windy April day.

A place where love could find its own—
To never leave one’s heart alone—
Oh, lovers run wild, run free, live young!
For your chance may never be again.

But now, should if such visions die—
It rains should come and the willows cry
And colors fade slowly from a painted sky,
There will then, be left a richer sand.

For I claimed it all as if my own,
But a moment gained is a moment gone
And all I’ve left, a fragment of Hearthstone
Untouched in the windowsill.

Should if one day I return to see
Its rippling waters and large oak tree,
I’ll give praise for what once it gave to me.
And the honeysuckle grow wild there still—
A trace of Heaven lost …
In Jacksonville.