A Memory

THE FAREWELL WINDOW CAME AND WENT

It was a title of many books I dreamt of

while sitting on a log watching the Klamath River flow

one summer that I call long ago.

I sat for a few hours in the early morning coolness

of summer, our canoes gently moved in their moorings

my friends all slept the sleep of youth and possibilities,

and me, well I dreamt of a book of poems

that would also drift in the currents of dreams or something

I could not grab a hold of, get at,

ripples in the water came and went

like the fish that made them,

back home someone opened the farewell window

which was my childhood neatly stacked up with books

in a library now closed.