Cutler River

January 21, 2008
By
Sometimes those thoughts flood back with steady might
And I am lost at sea among the days when I was young.
My memories of that simple time are fiercely bright.
Awash in hazy dreams of childhood bliss from which I sprung
As quiet motes drift through the astral glow;
Recalling halcyon scenes of streams we splashed among,
Our doubts rinsed down the changeless flow.
We’d find a spot along the winding road,
The golden sun would make our skin desire to know
The crystal waters which over our heads flowed,
And stole out the last remaining crumbs of light,
Until we paid the night what we had owed.





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