At fifteen we slept on the lawn,
Breakfasting on blackberries,
Potawatomies, near the tracks, and
Finally Mr. Larsen's peaches; walking
To the marsh to watch the sunrise.

Now at fifty, bed-rested, I
Stride the river trail: savoring
The sour of elderberries, sucking
The pulp of an occasional chokecherry,
And nibbling the tartness of rosehips--

Accompanied by the memory of you.

10/01/2011

Author's Note: Frog Hollow and Logan Canyon.

Posted on 10/01/2011
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes