HERE AND THERE
When I was a kid, I spent my summers
near my grandfather’s farm in Port Benjamin,
in upstate New York. Port Ben wasn’t a port
anymore, not since 1900 when
the train replaced the D & H canal.
Anyway, the Rondout Creek ran near our house
and provided a great place to play, fish,
swim and have adventures that are with me
sharp and clear after more than sixty years.
To get to the creek, we had to cross a
hayfield, which, if recently mowed, was tough
on our bare feet , climb down the creek bank on
a rickety staircase and cross the muddy
bottom land on a wobbly wooden walk.
Here’s the point. While walking Atlantic Street
the other day, as in a foggy dream,
I found that old boardwalk spread over the
flooded soggy salt marsh, no doubt trod by
kids with sixty years of adventures remembered.