Houses have a way of absorbing the ambiance of those who live in them.
This poem was written as an exercise in rhyme and rhythm, but it has an aura of wistful nostalgia.
Les Granges de Beauvoir
The Grange in June is all delight,
The roses bloom with all their might,
The grass so warm, the sun so bright;
Butterflies dancing in the light.
The Grange in winter all is gloom.
The rain on gravel falls too soon.
Lone robin perches on the broom,
Only the jasmine dares to bloom.
How warm the sun the Grange in spring!
The flowers in bud, the birds all sing.
The bumble bee will air his wing;
Mimosa’s now the garden king.
The Grange in autumn – leaves will fall
And bury the ground in an amber pall.
Lights on early; owls will call.
Bonfire smoke by the garden wall.
Year by year a house lives on
Accumulating all that’s gone.
In future times one here may con
Our sorrows lost, our small joys won.
© Sarita Armstrong 1982