The Left Column
River Of Sudden Blooms
   If I could write a poem like that
    Silver Saturday's biking through
                    mountain woodlands
     If I could cast that lure to catch the magic fish
 who'd tell me where the real gold is before
           I'd throw him back . . .
  When I find that golden eagle knife
     twelve double eagle inlays of coin gold . . . 
   that 1913 nickel that the guy who made them
       said that he bought mail order. . .

  I can't be that guy
    who's got those clever things
  always flowing forth like rivers of
    fallen pedals at the end of the bloom.
  That river is forever,
    those fruit trees bloom by that river
   every year
   and you can always go there.

 


The Vermont Hills
Roll by.  The Connecticuit River
is a Water Gap from Northfield
to Lebanon.