Early April, At The River

Roaring dandelions tickle her nose

As she lie in a sea of soft greenery.

Butterflies swim through the fresh air,

Then rest atop her breast.

I’m a native to this setting, this

My wife has yet to discover-

“Running late” I say, but


Here only to break the monotony

Every wednesday, I escape the fight

Life’s obstacles get overwhelming at times.


On the crown of the Elm, I can

See everything there is to observe here,

The fish are dancing to the blissful vibrating quakes of the earth.

The water sways to and fro, as if it had too many drinks at the bar,

Creating music that keeps the woman in the grass at peace.

I’d like to dance with her

And it is true my wife would not approve,

The resting lady seems to be only a tourist

And one dance will be just for the moment,

I’d just like to smell and embrace something new.

But at the pinnacle of this Elm, is where I’ll remain

Watching the hummingbirds play freeze tag

And the strays as cops and robbers,

The ants enjoying a game of telephone

And the tourists coming to lie, in search of serenity.

As the sun goes down

The water turns black,

The creatures hide from


And now there is nothing to watch.

I can feel my wife’s impatience,

I can smell her pasta

She awaits my homecoming.


Poem and Photo by Dom S. Flagg


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