At the Old Grist Mill
Water rises in damp clouds above the falls
Red from the old grist mill reflecting through
The backlighting sunshine causing ethereal
Rainbow-like patterns in the mistiness, while
I watch the gigantic wheel fling cold water
Downstream where it plunges into the murk,
Creating a deep hole not suitable for diving
And too dangerous for children to swim in, so,
I slip my bare feet over the moss-covered ledge
Dangling them above the stream’s updraft,
Watching them come soaking wet and clean
At the end of my sopping brand new jeans.
written November 5, 2021
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2021
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