Running through the reeds with fishing pole in hand, were part of the etchings of elder longings

During the darkest moments, I closed my eyes and dreamed of those days

I stayed out so late, I could only see the glimmer of the sun over the mountain crest

My childhood lands disappeared many years ago; gobbled up by yellow monsters with rubber feet

Skunk cabbage; the man in the woods disappeared with the falling of the tree-fort making way for the empire of asphalt and cedar hedges.

These memories will smother me over one hundred lifetimes.

Whenever my sickness of home buckles me at the knees, I will close my eyes, wrap my arms around my soul and remember.

Carl Meadows

June 30, 2016