Cold deep water, up about your ears...staring out a cut bank at round pebbles neath your feet...salmon in your face, round eyed as puppies. "How'd ye get here?!" says they, as your mouth forms an answer of air...escaping from your chest!
You swallow half the mountain watershed...then, a saviors hand jerks you through the moss, back up to life...where the lads are laughing, at your near demise, as you lay in the soft green moss, and gasp, along side they!
We were all amazed, and every day, the same...lit like a candle in a lamp...was our rose cheeked grace, and God would give us things...like this surprise, but we never knew which one...and I doubt, knew they, we all were blessed.
We'll call that, 'falling through the cut bank hole'...through the mossy door, to another world. I would'a knocked, but went too quick. It's been like that, through all the years...conveyed through life, touched by death, but never died...not yet.
Full many jested pranks, designed by fate, have they, to give one pause...suggesting, they have all the funny cards shoved up their sleeve. I am their butt, but have learned to laugh...no matter what!
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: WWF-Canada blog, google pic
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