A poem of memory

Geology and Topography

In the woods, under high banking hills
the spring’s water, a tiny trickle,
used to pool beneath a small waterfall.
We would cup our hands and drink
cold subterranean depths.

Now the rill runs its meager course
with no leap, no leisurely still.
It threads through a jumble
of gray sandstone gravel
in a grim, businesslike search
for Horse Creek.

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2 thoughts on “A poem of memory

  1. brings me memories of a child doing such things only then so sad as yes like coming back to see all those memories dug up and changed to gravels and such (is what I am reading from this?) & what happen not so long ago i went to visit the past 🙂 my creek had gone and in place a huge bridge with highway ;(
    thankq beez:)

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