Creeks rise to memory,
Leaves wake sharply
under sneakers become boots.
The sounds, summering sounds
just after the island of consciousness :
To travel memory back
to trick the present,
Dive naked into creek water,
crash cradle remembered leaves.
Could we draw a circle
through the foci, then and now,
And live in the center?
Nothing stops us but
the sun falling one way or another,
parting the mind this way or that.
While retreat is at the bend,
the orison of repetition is secured
behind summer eyelids.
About the Poet
William V. Ray is a retired English teacher and, of late, a café owner. His published work includes textbooks, poetry and poetic prose. He is the editor of The Courtship of Winds. He lives outside Boston, Massachusetts. For more detail, please visit his LinkedIn page.