* Here goes scribbler traveling unfamiliar territory again. Another attempt at poetic prose...........stan

Knocked off today an hour early
(old knee was screaming way too loud.)
Between it and such warm March first
there was excuse aplenty.

So down the old two lane road I went
eyes roaming through the dirty windshield
of my old red pick up truck.

All the maples had a blush
as buds prepared to open.
Or maybe they had just wakened
and were embarrassed at having spent
the past winter naked.

Along with them the hybrid pears
were on verge of reaching full bloom.
And dogwood buds were sizzling
before exploding into white earth bound clouds.

As I passed through a tired cross road town
daffodills and yellow bells showed gold.
both scattered and in neat rows
in front of
little clapboard houses.

I then detoured from my usual route
and headed toward a mountain river
misplaced at too low elevation
yet of high land qualities all the same.

For it cuts through a granite gorge
with rushing waters mainly white.
The former home of a stone dam
which has gone the way of
the textile mode of life.
Disappeared like last week's dreams.

So I pulled off the winding road
to sit and watch the liberated water flow.
The on sound was gentle rapids
and wind warming through the pines
and cliff-hanging mountain laurels.

The lowering sun reflected off
the ripples on riffles
like tinsel on a forgotten
Christmas tree.

Then a car came by.
Reminding me :
time to stop scribbling
and head on home.

So I cranked up my truck and crossed
the rusty old steel truss bridge.
A half mile to a turn around
still in sight of Twelve Mile river.
And marked with a sign
SOLD
Which reminded me of the rumors
about coming river front condominiums.