Reservoir Hill, 1972
I remember sitting on Reservoir Hill,
While watching storm clouds grow,
And listening to the windswept pines
As their branches filled with snow;
The sense of silence building
Till it muffled every sound,
But the gentle rush of snowflakes
As they blanketed the ground;
The American River canyon
In the fogbank down below,
And off in the distance, Placerville
With street lights all aglow.
Just down the hill was granddad’s home
And the warmth inherent in it.
If only time were malleable
I’d be there in a minute.
I see my grandma at the stove,
With all the family there,
My granddad’s sweet mischievous grin,
His white and wispy hair;
The glimmer of the window panes,
And the old dog at the gate,
Shaking the snow from his wiry coat
And wondering why I’m late.
Dear God, preserve our memories
Of glad days long ago,
Of happy lamp lit gathering
And Hangtown in the snow;
Of all the precious loved ones
Who lived and loved but brief,
May blessings grace our days, dear Lord,
And hope dispel old grief.
May faith assure tomorrows joys
Despite the winds that chill,
And each night bring us dreams of youth,
Old friends and Placerville.
Shannon Thomas Casebeer