(For the writer's mother's memorial service, Halloween Day, 2000)
There used to be a river here.
We'd stand upon the shore
and grab the rope down from the tree
and swing back in for more.
When we were young we all went bare.
Our hair was wet and drawn.
But time has changed the way we see
and where that river's gone.
How time has changed her lovely course
- I sit on sandy shore.
There used to be a river here,
It's not here anymore.
Meanders and some mighty storms
have left this bed bone-dry
except for rainy days like these
when puddles show the sky.
The fish, the snakes and all the life
gave up their muddy climes
to busted plates and rusted Fords
in brambles, thorns and vines.
I look to the created sky
from this old sandy shore.
There used to be a river here
But now there is no more.
There really was a river here.
It's not here anymore.
@ October 2000-