Aletha Rappaport

Boynton Beach, Florida, USA

Aletha Rappaport, 89, has been a writer for many years, doing publicity, advertising, bulletins, children's stories. For twenty years she has written poetry, being most recently published in two of the National Library of Poetry's Anthologies.She finds inspiration in her family, nature, music, art, (especially her husband's drawings), Imagination helps too. Aletha attended Boston University, majoring in Journalism and advertising. She joined Zeta Tau Alpha fraternity and supports their philanthopy, breast cancer research. Was an active member of P.T.A. and League of Women Voters. Married 63 years, Rappaports have 4 children, 12 grandchildren, 5 great grandchildren.

October In The Mountains

The North Wind does blow,
His chilly fingers on my face
Tell me it is time to go -
To leave our mountain home
And seek a warmer clime
Before ice forms on the lake.
How can winter be so close?
The woods are alive with color -
Yellow, yellow and more yellows
Of every shade and hue -
Reds and orange, browns and russet too.
Autumn having her last fling
Before submitting to Winter's icy sting.

Nostalgia

The sight of an old barn
Deserted and alone
In winter's sleet and snow.
Stirs memories of a barn
I knew long ago.
Our childish laughter
Filled the rafters
As we played and jumped
In fragrant sun-dried hay -
Then down the chute we went
Into the stalls below.
So vivid are the memories
My nose begins to twitch
With the musty barn odors
Of feed - grains in their bins -
Of old leather tack -
Harnesses hanging on wooden pegs.
Now I hear the jingle of their bells
As old Ned pulls the sleigh.
Those happy days - Sweet are the memories.

Creation

I am the Earth Mother
In the womb of my mountains
Were nurtured the seeds of my offspring
And violent volcanoes brought them
Forth with hot lava.
My pinnacles were admired by mankind.
My forests sheltered and protected.
My plains provided for all posterity.
Although I speak in parables,
My progeny will understand and love me
And will search for and cherish my lover,
Father Time, the father of us all.
He has placed a time limit...
When he calls, all must go; for
This is the time to return to me,
To the earth from which all spring.
For I -- I am the Earth Mother.