U.P.,1970 Something

When pushing down dead trees was good enough fun.

When old ladies solved most of the problems.

When phones were just for talking, and the pink dusks held us captive with dreams of raw and desperate love.

When nobody ever really got hurt.

When a blue jumbo marble contained the universe.

When dirt roads mattered.

When country music was mostly made in the country.

When a boy could play for hours among the tumbleweeds.

When the world could be fixed with a pair of pliers.

When Frosted Flakes was the food of the gods.

When the neighbors flew kites in the dark wind and laughed.

When blood was real.

When the color yellow led to affections more often than red.

When birds sang every important truth there ever was.

When a big old bear could still roam the cold Michigan shores hunting for his own death.

driftwood . . .

such a long way

to stillness