Above the Pump
My universe for long childhood moments;
A high square-foot of red brick
Atop the wall,
Above the green pump,
Miraculous provider of clear water in
Hard-earned gushings from the depths.
An awkward stepping to my lofty perch,
But solidly constructed,
As seemed life at that time.
I remember racing my cousin
Along crusted crane-jibs,
Peering into quarry depths on quiet Sundays;
The winner, first to touch the tip,
The loser, first to miss his step.
Foolishly glorious.
Gloriously foolish.
Nowadays,
I cannot look down a stairwell;
Yesterday’s brave heights
Belong to a stranger.
I sometimes remember him...
FIL 03/11/09
