–∞–
Snowmelt streaming softly Water whispering quietly Gutters guiding gently Damp, chill air Fills my nostrils Rousing memories of childhood Every rivulet Invites a craft Tiny, seaworthy None can be seen No Popsicle stick rafts No bottle caps or paper boats Foreign ports at street’s end Magical destinations Go unreached, unexplored Many years ago These elfin rivers Brought me great joy Every evening Of irresistible thaws Found trousers wet, feet soaked Kitchen radiator Topped with steaming shoes Stuffed with newspaper Peaceful, warm dinner Outdoors grew colder Another thaw awaited© 2013 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 
February 27, 2013 at 6:24 pm |
Lovely poem, Tom. I remember that floating tiny makeshift “boats” in a stream was fun; more fun than watching television when I was a kid.
March 1, 2013 at 8:02 pm |
Great poem – full of shared memories. Racing toothpicks down the ditches in spring, losing them in caverns of ice. Building and breaking dams. Fording six inch rivers. Thanks for the memories!