those old poems

When I revisit the poems I wrote here
under all these layers of since,
I delve drifiting sands, find amphorae
of seeds: they plant themselves
and bloom afresh: orchids, mushrooms,
fresh spring boughs of pussy willows,
carrots, plums, potatoes, sweet basil.

What grows in this garden of posts
can live itself, a window into the living past;
and from each of these as I pass I hear
voices, see figures washing like waves
onto a distant beach. We are all so young
there, so involved in everything but since,
and is that stew I smell? And Christmas pudding?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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