Hi WM.,
I'm glad you chose to post this piece because it brought back so many great memories of my childhood in a community where I grew (debatable)
up. When I was so much younger, I had a similiar place like the one you described where I spent many hours. To this day, whenever I go back to visit, I always try to make it a point to go see my oldest friend.
The following is quite lengthy so will probably post it in parts.
The River
In the south of my small town,
four thousand faces strong,
in August trickles ankle deep,
in winter frozen hard;
many, many the times I've come
since boyhood ------ years ago,
to rediscover and feel again
life's magic in the water's flow.
Railroad tracks blaze the trail ahead
disappearing in the distance,
as a sure foot rythmically finds
each tie secure
in the well traveled path
leading again
to some predestination.
Ducking the posted barbwire boundry,
walking upright without fear,
trespassing into the rights of childhood,
as an old friend is spread forth
luring one to find anew
the secrets of a changing
yet never changed, environment.
From the watch towers, high steeped sand cliffs
looming above the waters below,
eyes grasp in robust splendor
the richness, of an intricately detailed,
harmonizingly balanced, landscape.
Staring eyes focus with new enthusiasm
upon the rainbow of colors in a pasture
preparing itself for a winter to soon to come
as the last reminates of summer
are absorbed by the coming of fall.
(to be continued)
Nakia (1984) |
