Memory in an Old Man’s Mind

The tree crown’s leaves dance in the wind
as the sunlight winks through
and you swing from the almost unreachable first branch,
your hair whipping behind you,
the lake and its hazy hillsides all around.

A man stands still at the top of the grassy slope
observing the coming storm,
its sheets of light streaked mist.

You rise, a memory in an old man’s mind,
regal and wise,
the big horned sheep your patronus.

You carry your years,
a patchwork of shifting stories,
your views shields against the chaos,
pulled by the tides of the half full moon.