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The Lord of the Tadpoles
I ended this poem with a question, and it seems I answered it, because I told you. And what did I tell you? Of course, since I wrote the poem the subject seems obvious to me, but I am not going to give it all to you. What have you done for me? Why should I go that extra mile by taking you by the hand and leading you down the path?
I will tell you that there was a bridge just a few hundred yards down the road from our little farmhouse on the prairie. The bridge had rusty red railings on either side . It's been so long ago, but I imagine the railings were no more than 3 feet high. The road was a gravel road until I was probably in the 5th grade, and then the county made it a blacktop road. The bridge crossed over a winding creek that here and there had deep enough holes that we could swim in , but overall we (me and my brother who was two years older) could wade for a great distance comfortably down the creek in ankle deep, or knee deep water.
The water was crystal clear, and especially beneath the bridge there were schools of little tadpoles. There was a beautiful stand of trees on either side of the creek that created a ribbon to the north of our house going west about a quarter of a mile along the perimeter of the road on one side, and my fathers 60 acre field on the other. This ribbon of trees gave way to an expansive forest at the end of my fathers property. The forest on the east end of the creek was just a stones throw from our house.
© 2015 Ronnie wrenchBiscuit