Poems

Cold Wind

The wind blew from the North Pole,

across the mountain.

The trees swayed back and forth.

Dead limbs hit the ground.

Cold rain turned to sleet.

The lights flickered,

went out, then came back on.

In those moments,

there was total darkness

and the wind howled louder,

like something maniacal.

Fishing Trip

We used to walk

off this mountain

down to Guess' Creek.

We'd take fishing

line and hooks

and cut cane poles.

We'd dig red worms

in wet leaves and dirt,

on the creek bank.

We'd catch bluegills,

redeye and

smallmouth bass.

And then we'd

have a long walk

back up the mountain,

before dark.