Don Pearson - Age

I remember a past of confident movements
Of rhythmic sounds and a time that escaped
And young girls and bright lights and excited voices
And …
Stay beside me now,
As the light fades
And the voices outside
Are quietened by night.

Do I hear the hooves of the carthorse
Clattering cobbles as he heaves for home?
Are there yet huntsmen
On Boxing Day morning?
Does the breath of the men
And the hounds and the horses
Flow through the air
in the pale Winter sun?
Is there snow lying
Outside my window
And is a fox sleeping
Curled up in the woodland,
Warm and lethargic
While death searches for him,
Waking and fleeing
As death's chill moves closer?

Listen! Oh, listen!
I can hear the horns blowing,
A