Halcyon

TAXODIUM memory of a swing never took.

I went back to this place after a storm. Don’t remember which one. They come so fast and furious. But it was all gone. The steps no longer went up but disappeared into the spring. A reflection of something no longer there. Almost perfect.

The image shocks memories and stirs dreams. My mind goes places my body cannot. It curls its toes around each found and nailed board. Climbs. It wraps skin shrunken fingers around the fray of a worn grey rope. They hold on for dear life. It swings high over the spring boil. Lets go. Drops deep into cold. Those halcyon days. Non, Je ne regrette rien.

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