It’s as if we never left

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

It’s the campfire smoke

It’s the granite load

It’s the firewood

Stacked in neat triangles

Of chords and ranks

It’s the forestry lesson

Follow the wood grains

Identify Red Maple, Hickory, and Beach

It’s the burning trees

It’s the peepers and crickets

Singing like a wall in the thicket

Once your ear is dialed into them

It’s hard to focus on what’s being said

It’s Shipyard’s Pumpkin Head

It’s the flow of life through the bottleneck

It’s the flow of the Lamprey River

It’s where time moves slow

Relative to the amount of souls

One encounters in the backdrop folds

It’s that free-floating space in your brain

It’s the majority memory vault

It’s the sea salt

It’s the Ocean’s smell

It’s the seashell

It’s the poison’s fault

It’s the sunshine

It’s sand dunes soaking up heat

With sticky, sharp dune grass

Deep roots, the foundation for visage

It’s my home away from home

It’s a shoulder to lean on

It’s the gleam of a silver tongue

People come and go and go, go, go

Round and round on this five-cent carousel

We embrace and talk face to face

It never gets old

It’s the blood that never runs cold

It’s the love that keeps hold of a red string

Wound through scene after scene

Hold the end, follow it like a stream

Float through the current

Down river, towards me


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