Something fell behind when I left
and I have not returned to retrieve it,
have not crossed the bridge to the
other side of the river where my
dreams lived in the shadow of the canyon
beneath the ancient spruce and tangled
cottonwood. Something was lost.
I didn’t know it then, only now,
staring across the shining water
to the yellow house, still blue-gated,
with the roof my father and brother
repaired, the fence built by a friend,
the beach carved by the flood
I witnessed from the front window.
Something fell behind when I left,
my sense of belonging perhaps,
or maybe it was only the hopeful
me that now sleeps beneath the
towering trees, buried by the years
and weighed down by the strength
of time and a past locked in memories.