back of the lumberyard
where I sort through
pressure-treat two by six
looking for the right boards
a frosty Grass Valley morning
Fleetwood Mac
comes on the high speakers
and I'm transported
to my gremmie-surfer days
Encinitas
thirty years ago
just by the chorus line in Rhiannon-
the young guy in gloves
helping me load lumber
has no idea what's going through my head
writes the tag
where I stand speechless
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
oh this is very good, has alot of charactor, gives the reader a feel of the music, very nice.... Bonnie Collins