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TOO LATE

TOO LATE

A Poem by Vol

A dry leaf scuttles into non-sensual contact

with the water to sail a little while in the wind;

my reverie always jostled by noisy people

dressed in bright colors. From where I stand,

they look like so much non-sentient litter scattered

on the banks of the river. Their manufactured

cackles break on the rocks.


The Hemlocks drip green, into the air as thick

breezes pillow their way through the humid breath of

the forest while I wander off the trail. A perfect Poplar

sapling sacrifices itself to my knife. I drop strips of

smooth bark, a yellow trail to follow home and will

keep this stick, a memento of that time I escaped into

a mirror of who I am, when everything smiled at the

quantum entanglement of itself and me.


Some niggling thing nudges me to pause, the light

is gold dapples, the breath of Pines and Maple like

airy syrup. I plant the end of my staff on a rock,

close my eyes and lean into the things that made me;

The Book of John, Jules Verne, Graham Greene,

D. H. Lawrence, Tolkien, Bukowski, like my guts were

painted by some cross between Renoir, Picasso

and O’Keefe, so I fit in. My perceptions match my dreams,.

my expectations in pieces on the shoulders of the road.


There is movement on the water where the

ledge that dips its toes into the pool and

the sky floats on passing clouds, a young

woman with ginger feet slides headfirst into

the mirror with barely a ripple and my smile

turns to a grin I can carry with me all the

way to Buzzard’s Roost, a cold IPA and a

long vista into the smoky distance.

© 2024 Vol


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Featured Review

'he Book of John, Jules Verne, Graham Greene,
D. H. Lawrence, Tolkien, Bukowski, like my guts were
painted by some cross between Renoir, Picasso
and O’Keefe, so I fit in. My perceptions match my dreams,
my expectations in pieces on the shoulders of the road.'

Fine words and many that enclose even more, laid so carefully and adademically. Perhaps it's what we read, what we learn, guides the eyes and mind to never stop looking, to live life by loving it.. giving, gazing, absorbing and

'There is movement on the water where the
ledge that dips its toes into the pool and
the sky floats on passing ..

Thoughtful acceptance..

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Vol

3 Weeks Ago

Emma,
Thanks for stopping by. There is a place in Tennessee called Fall Creek Falls State Par.. read more
emmajoygreen

3 Weeks Ago

Will Google later ,, is 18.43 right now, wiould love to see such a beautifyul place. Thanks lots fo.. read more



Reviews

I love the metaphorical nature of this...and relate in a special way to the Pines, North Carolina and my folks in retirement for their final years...and then the gift they gave my sister and me in our youth...summers in Vermont and falls as well with the beautiful colors of the maples. And the debris floating in the water...
times have changed and the waters are quite polluted with the hate that has floated with the current
state of the world.
j.

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Vol

3 Weeks Ago

Jacob,
Thank you! The place is Fall Creek Falls State Park in Tennessee. I've been going ther.. read more
'he Book of John, Jules Verne, Graham Greene,
D. H. Lawrence, Tolkien, Bukowski, like my guts were
painted by some cross between Renoir, Picasso
and O’Keefe, so I fit in. My perceptions match my dreams,
my expectations in pieces on the shoulders of the road.'

Fine words and many that enclose even more, laid so carefully and adademically. Perhaps it's what we read, what we learn, guides the eyes and mind to never stop looking, to live life by loving it.. giving, gazing, absorbing and

'There is movement on the water where the
ledge that dips its toes into the pool and
the sky floats on passing ..

Thoughtful acceptance..

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Vol

3 Weeks Ago

Emma,
Thanks for stopping by. There is a place in Tennessee called Fall Creek Falls State Par.. read more
emmajoygreen

3 Weeks Ago

Will Google later ,, is 18.43 right now, wiould love to see such a beautifyul place. Thanks lots fo.. read more

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2 Reviews
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Added on September 8, 2024
Last Updated on September 8, 2024

Author

Vol
Vol

Gouge Eye, TX



About
My name is Vol Lindsey. I live in Gouge Eye, Texas, a tiny ghost town on Rt. 66. I am a retired creative writing, English literature teacher. I have been writing poetry and reading publicly since 196.. more..

Writing