Wednesday, May 18, 2016


Image by John Burk. Used with Permission

I look to the west as setting sun crests
on the Holyoke range, their time worn brow
casting deep shadows upon the Quinetucket,
their doppelgängers mirrored in the still water.
Past these hills lie the Berkshires
and a bit further, the mighty Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk
meanders past Albany while the thick-grown
woodlands of the Adirondacks and Catskills
turn somber in the fading light.

There is magic in these hills;
if you listen carefully you can 
hear the voices of the ancients
murmuring through the trees.
I know you hear them too,
when the wind whistles just so
and the river sings her song.

We really aren’t so different, you and I…
inspired in accordance
by our ever-changing views—
I burn my words in black on white,
then somewhere in the waning light
I'll pass my torch to you.

© Ginny Brannan 2016

I wish to extend my sincerest thanks to photographer John Burk for permitting me to use one of his amazing photos. The image above is called "Connecticut River Oxbow Sunset & Mt. Tom." It captures the essence and beauty of the Connecticut River as I have often seen it. You may find more of his lovely work at

*Quinetucket: Reference to the Connecticut River. Per Wikipedia the word Connecticut is a French corruption of the Mohegan word Quinetucket, which means "beside the long, tidal river."  The word "Connecticut" came into existence during the early 1600's, describing the river, which was also called simply "The Great River.

**Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk (Hudson River) per Wikipedia: The Hudson was known as Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk (River that flows two ways) by the Mohican tribe who formerly inhabited both banks of the lower portion of the river.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

A Matter of Trust…

Children should be seen and not heard.
Trust those who love you.
Age = knowledge and experience.
Always respect your elders.
                * * * * * * * * * *
So many lessons in our youth
are learned and re-learned early on
the main one is “You’re just a child,
who speaks in stories and half-truths
no time to listen, move along…”
            But there are evils that are wrong
            a side that others may not see;
            when shared aloud, they won’t believe
            cannot handle,  won’t respond…
            until you think you’ve misconstrued.

While lost in youthful fantasy
a grandpa breaks a sacred bond:
to fondle adolescent girls
who happen to be family—
easy prey; then he absconds…

            And they are left to carry on
            in silence carrying the shame,
            not understanding what he did
            nor quite the way they should respond
            —they shelve away and then move on.

Senility might be blame
at  ninety did you even know?
While decades pass and they retain
the scars you left so long ago,
mistrust of loved ones still ingrained.

     I always thought that I’d outgrow
     the guilt I carry deep inside.
     No, you were not a paragon
     and over time I’ve come come to know
     through all the years that you’ve been gone
     how thoughts of you bring mixed reviews
     ….yet you and I still knew the truth…
 ©Ginny Brannan 2016

Written in first person, inspired by a story I recently read, and another story heard long ago.
Some things are never forgotten…