Getting Lost In a Photo

growing up and spending time at my grandparents

there was a creek, much like this, that ran down

behind the two front pastures. there used to be an old

homestead there, for flowers grow that wouldn't

normally be there ~ and before that, an indian village.

we used to find arrow heads and old pieces of pottery

it was a creek my grandmother and i would hike up

our pants legs, she her dress and apron, and walk until

we met the dirt road on one end of the pastures.

we'd sit on the sand and watch what floated down.

leaves, sticks, sometimes turtles would venture out

and always crayfish and little bitty fish

as i grew older and commissioners worked and reworked

the dirt road, the creek became muddier and filled

with waste and trash from man. beavers built a dam.

the land, no longer kept back by my grandfather,

began to encroach upon the creek banks and the creek

became smaller.  i grew older, and no longer small

there are times we wish childhood could last longer

that memories could whisk us back just one more day

one more walk, one more hat made with daisies

but then, to do that, we'd lose part of today

and that would be a tragedy

for today are tomorrow's memories and i 

wouldn't miss this season we are now in

with it's vibrant colors and cooling temps

letting us know that a season is on it's way

that will slow us down and create a quiet

sense of hibernation, the time of rest

the creek will ice over, weeds will die, and quiet

will be broken only be a cracking icy branch

and the memories of my youth will remain

as vividly as the colors of autumn, all i have to do

is close my eyes, lift my face to the breeze

and let my mind roam back. and back. and back.