Spring Valley, #96

1.

When he took me, the two-track was hardly visible. The grass was bending over the hood, as high as the windows of the Rambler. The shore was a rich dark brown scattered with white stones.

When I took her, the grasses were short and faded covered in dust from the gravel road. On our walk down the trail 1 collect discarded bottles, cans, wrappers, and bait containers, putting them a the bag that once held our sandwiches. The shore is ground to a fine dust.

Quiet.

“Pop,” the opening of a can echoes, loud voices follow.

She turns and says, “It’s okay Pops.”

Glassy lake surface
Splash! fish clutched-Osprey talons
Glassy lake surface

2.

3.

Waking from a daze 
dreamt I was a soaring bird
as I fly away

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