Forks Of Cypress

we wandered over this precious quilt of acreage
in our all tooignorant youth

we didn’t really know
at that point
how bleak and grey the rest of the
world would be

i strolled barefoot
hand in hand with thomas
oblivious of the attending bacterium
over gentle green hills
where cows had recently grazed
where potentialy magic
mushrooms grew

another time
with david
there was an abandoned house near the edge
of one of those pastures where
we kissed

and i recalled the mansion before it burned away
and how its coloumns were virginal white
and that the dark cool interior seemed
interesting
and inviting

but papa wouldn’t give me the fifty cent admission fee

later still
with closest friends
we waded through the clearest streams just above
the foot friendly point where
they cascaded gorgeous and sparkling
over water smoothed stones into what was
really a river

but each and every expedition to this green green
hidden away
long ago
farmland
began with the
forks of cypress

which stood as though guardian
as though sentinel over what was left

At this point I have to go because my non-Alabamiam partner has interrupted this little happy sojourn to listen to his flood evacuation plan for the next mis-managed disaster.

Dang.

be Back Soon.