South Bend, IN by moominsean
It took her most of the afternoon to
find the tree. The land once belonged
to her family, and she had grown up here,
but along the way she found herself
lost and had to backtrack, and by the
time she reached the bend in the river
it was almost evening.
The water was shallower than she
remembered; but, It was here that her
father had placed the stones in the river,
the same stones that almost thirty years
later were covered in a thick carpet
of emerald green moss.
Her backpack suddenly felt heavy, but
as she started crossing the river she
felt her father take her hand–as he
had always done when she was a child.
The shimmering water lapped at her feet.
Splinters of mica glinted on the river bed.
A dragonfly hovered, briefly, as did a butterfly.
She remembered the day her father caught
a rainbow trout with his bare hands, and let it go.
_Bison Jack
This Bison Jack poem from the Savannah Missed Connections has been languishing in the depths of the oldest archive for long enough! I never recorded the date I found the piece (a decision I now regret) but I think it’s from six or seven years ago – right around the time he started posting regularly to the forum. Regardless of when it was first shared with the world, it’s a perfect story for this time of year, and one that is beautifully told.
