Skipping Stones II

My happiest days were knee deep in that creek
Skipping stones while listening to cars overhead.
We weren’t supposed to go through the tunnel  

Where I could stand up straight under the road. 
Where my voice echoed if I dared to speak
Where the darkness stretched forever  

Beyond that two lane road lay a primordial world
Every rock and every tree belonging somewhere else.
Where I was the trespasser, wary of dogs who roamed there.  

I left behind the dark pools and cascades in the shade
Of mock apple trees, their twisted bows
Lying low and heavy with weird fruit.  

I left behind shale shelves lining the creek bed
Ancient libraries holding lessons
Of the fossils and crickets who lived there.  

On the other side, the creek was above ground.
Brown leaves lay gently along her slopes
And though she marred the ground,  

She did not dig trenches.
The leaves and trees covered her knees like a skirt
Instead of leaving all her bones exposed.  

The dogs were free, unbound by fences.
Boundaries marked by other dogs
Boundaries I could not tell  

Except for the low barking
Those short fast sentences
Warning away trespassers.