Well remember do I
Vermillion or gold or red
Splashed across arctic sky
When the aurora danced
Wavering ghostly curtain
Against the backdrop of stars
Winter visitor certain
Amongst star dust scattered far
In that frozen hell to us
We watched, eyes in tears
Minus fifty Celsius
Wrapped in astronaut gear
Grandmother told my brothers and I
At auroras you whistle never
Else be snatched into the cold sky
To live with them forever
For these past twenty five years
I have lived in one city or another
Not forgetting the aurora of my fears
Or the warning or my grandmother
My dad told us that whistling for the lights made them dance for you. So picture three small children standing on a porch in cold St. Anthony late in August, heads tilted skywards whistling like crazy. The fist time too this magic and it awed us into submission.
ReplyDeleteOne of my treasured childhood memories are the northern lights. Thank you for bringing it back to the surface.