Sneaker Creek

A box full of extra kicks,         

who knows where Mammy got them all,

just search for a size that fits.

We wade into maroon waters running over graying shale,

         like torn pages of books laying partially open.

Meandering slowly across Erie County,

         it had no other name to us.

Summer sun and precious time with a grandmother,

         splashing, laughing, watching;

         faultless recollections from younger days.

Blueberry stained fingertips looked        

         like sapphires just beneath the surface,

crystalline water tickled my bare ankles.

Wishing a day in Sneaker Creek would never end,

         we float leisurely back downstream, innocently,

         never knowing what lay beyond Porterville bridge.