There’s a place
down the
Hollow where two
streams cross.
Air temperatures
are 10 degrees colder than ours in Brooklyn, New York,
Where we’ve lived
since before Bill Clinton was president.
Temperatures in
these mountain-fed rushing streams are
umpteen degrees colder
than New York City tap water.
Close your eyes
under a night sky
Where the streams
meet
And it’s trapline
time, bear,
Deer, raccoon,
porcupine lap
Life-restoring
waters.
Long before the
first cabin is
Built. Let it be
before this nation is born.
When man was but
one and not
The One.
When listening
meant something entirely different
Than it does now.
Sink your body
into the
Teeth-chattering
cold of the churning waters
Will seal the
deal. Make you want for nothing more
At least for a
moment.
Next: Running for Your Life: Like a Fading Shadow
