Sand Bar

I am 11 standing
On a sandbar knee
Deep in brown water
And fine gray sand
In the Mississippi River.
My home in southern
Illinois is across the broad
River far, far away, a thin
Green line of trees and shade.
The massive power of the
River is awesome magnified
By my being a hundred feet
From shore along with my
Siblings strung out on
The sandbar like
Knots on a
String
Curving back
Toward the Missouri
Bank of the river
On a picnic
Wade before
We eat all
The
Delicacies
Of Southern
Cooking.
We wade back
To shore as the mighty
Mississippi rolls by waiting
For the careless, the distracted
The proud and the ignorant
To fall into it for a tour of
The green brown gold
World of jagged logs,
Huge catfish and
Snapping turtles
To hold one’s
Attention.
I eat my
Baked chicken
Breast on soft white
Bread with chips and
Iced tea with raw carrots
And country apple pie.
There are better
Things to eat
But I am 11
And free
Of
Fears or
Any precautionary
Sense of the world which
Protects me by my
Very innocence.
To be a boy
On the
River
On a sunny
Day is the epitome
Of happiness in
My little
World.
Now my sandbar
Stretches out
Into the future adventure
Life in Southern California
With my dear love by my
Side and still protected
By my innocence of
The difficulties to
Come but safe
And secure
With my
Friend
With whom
I will soon live
Content.