Pioneer Trail Park

By Bud Lemire on July 5, 2008
 
 
I remember a place where we use to go
Picnics in my younger days, memories that I know
The red and white tablecloth Mom use to set out
Covering the picnic table left me without doubt
 
I remember the beans that Dad use to make
The walks down the Spirit Trails that we use to take
Native Americans were buried in this place
Reminding me of the problems they all had to face
 
After dinner we spit watermelon seeds to see
Who could spit the farthest, but it sure wasn’t me
Along the Escanaba River, we’d always walk
Peaceful and so beautiful, as we’d join in a talk
 
Dad would take us further back as I recall well
To pick the hazelnuts that had pickers above the shell
I have so many memories from so long ago
Recently I went back there, to that place that I know
I took in the beauty of this wondrous place
When Pioneer Trail Park brought a smile to my face