Boyhood Poem by David Michael Jackson

Passenger creek3

creek3


PASSENGER CREEK
Passenger Creek she calls to me
those boysteps wandering
her banks,
thy banks.
she calls like the ancient winds
call
she calls with the quietest
of voices
your voices
thy voices
Her green waters flow
in me,
my brothers,
my
father.
My mother’s tiny little house
beside the creek
Passenger Creek

– David Jackson
***

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