Snowmelt Reverie


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

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2 Responses to “Snowmelt Reverie”

  1. Thomas Says:

    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.

  2. chrisbkm Says:

    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!

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