Thursday, September 8, 2016


My father in the mossy ditch,
wearing big comical floral swim trunks,
fastening a screen over the gate that lets the water
into our field, a mesh to keep the moss out,
polliwogs at his legs, crayfish in the icy
snowmelt, I must have been about
six, to guess by the way
I feel just now.


Jonathan Chant said...

Lovely memory. I have a pair of those trunks too.

William Michaelian said...

We wonder at times how many of them there are in the world. Thanks, Jonathan.