river, beneath a wooden bridge
beside the overgrown park
a swirling soufflé of foamy bubbles
branches racing, a stream
in southerly flow --
around the bend ripples
overcome a bridge
of stone. Aware of my presence
a squirrel skitters up a tree.
I am a child of
peanut butter fingers
dreaming a big one,
worm-hooked below surface.
A nearby plaque reads:
“In ’36 three men entombed
141 feet below, seeking crowns
of gold within the granite,
one man died.”
Steeped in time, a left
over village at attention beside
the graveled road
peace and simplicity,
a windy lullaby --
whispers wrapped around
aspen.
© 2011 Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/
Comments
scratch | December 19, 2011 - 20:02
Some good images here Richard. I'm a fisherman myself so I was hooked. I especially liked the final stanza. Well done.
lavadis | December 19, 2011 - 20:31
I would like to read that plaque and visit that village - it sounds peaceful but with a hint of a darker past