My father believed in legends of Indian folklore -
Being raised in the Ohio River valley, he knew his share
He always believed the incessant hooting of an owl
Was the harbinger of imminent death.
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A very moving and mysterious tale Linda. There are things which we simply cannot explain yet. This sounds like one of those. This kind of lore should be preserved and handed down. Maybe sense will be made of it eventually. I'm glad you've put it on record here. Exceedingly well told as usual. Right down the middle and the reader is left to try to make sense of it. xx jim
Such a beautiful poem Linda, a wonderful gift of love this vision in a dream between Grandpa and Grandson.............Diane
Linda this one is so sweet and so wise and your son - what a wonderful blessing and a wonderful bond. One of my favourite books is The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter. My son gave it to me and I have read it many times. Your poem reminds me of this superb story of a Cherokee boyhood. Delightful penning. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxx
You continue to out-do yourself, my dear, with each story you Pen...A touching tale of family & sentiment...memories that travel with you forever in time...you always have them to embace at your desiring...That & your 'GIFT OF TH' SILENT WORD''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''fjr
Nice tale of family warmth, traditions and culture. (And a fair bit of truth I suspect?) Danny
a good telling of your family mythology