Ghosts of Winters Gone
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
First memories unfold,
Not sure for order,
In TO with winters cold,
Rink ice, three months pleasure.
Six blocks on skates, stick crutch,
On my toes, mostly ankles over,
Ice, snow, cement altering,
Blades rounded and chipped,
Able to stand and glide, only just.
Later in boots, tied my own, then others,
Hours and hours of pick-up,
Girls watching outside the cushion,
Later skating together,
Snowballs flying, snowbank resting,
Pushing shovels, clear the fall,
More pleasure underneath for all.
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
At home emulate the stars
Firing frozen tennis balls, welts,
Learn to play Hall and Bower.
Snow piled deep, drive cleared,
Brother and I rip for hours.
Getting good, better than him,
Stanley Cup on the table.
Saturday night, Foster Hewitt,
Hit the pillow, dreams untold.
Tobogganed too, Rosedale close by.
How fast could we go?
Crashing out, face snow washed,
Maybe skating at the Jolly, under lights,
All wet with fatigue,
Climbing out of the Hollow,
Hot chocolate back at home.
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
Winter warm, cold ending,
Snow slushed salty streets.
Church team really good,
Five years running at the Gardens.
School team same,
Almost won the city.
University away from home,
Traying on a slope nearby,
Waking to frozen sunlit sparkle,
Hitching in a blizzard,
Declined, took a bus.
Learning to drive the 401,
Blizzard, neck sore and stiff.
Driving through drifts,
Then stuck, last one,
Walked to brother’s chalet.
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
Moved out west, frozen Edmonton,
Minus forty, pilot light out,
Ten minutes beard frozen, hurting,
Cross-countried Beaver Lake
Among the peaks, fresh snow,
Virgin tracks we left.
So much snow, ice carved
Along St. John’s streets.
Pilots land, angled,
Blizzards cut vision to six feet.
Edinburgh, damp cold penetrates,
Train to Glasgow for hockey, damper yet.
Drive to Ullapool, heavy snow in a Renault,
Stick shift, wrong side, all wrong,
Single lane, wipers barely working,
Starlit New Year’s kiss, still married.
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
Black ice, 360’s down Queen’s View,
Just north of Carbeth Inn, gutting, renovating,
Winds across Campsie’s, a train overhead,
Three kids later, Aberdeen granite.
Found a farm outside Stirling,
Barn built up the hill,
Star filled nights with Orion
Up to feed the cows.
Freezing rain, frozen thick
Sharp boom cracks across the fields.
Cutting firewood, piled till Spring,
Stoves warm with last year’s wood.
Late night boiling in cedar log shack,
Woodpecker on the chimney,
Owls, coyotes in the bush,
Sunset patterns through boiling steam.
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, with ghosts of winters gone.
Dropping trees, splashing snow,
Deep snow trudging through,
Trails everywhere, mine and wild,
Soft snow hanging low.
Trees cut and winched
For new build near river, Saint John,
Site covered, wait till Spring,
Sunrise mornings over ice and snow above the flow.
Preparing posts and logs, still time,
Wind and water tight for Fall.
Some winters just a blur
As snow horizontal across a field will go,
Drifting here, clearing there,
Paw marks frozen in the snow
Till winter is spent and floods retire
When seasons new will follow,
Memories flooding, trickling, lingering,
Rising from my core.
Who I am, who I have become,
Older, elder, after ghosts of winters gone.
©️Steven Tubb, March 2022