© Christopher Raine


Back East


I dream of
the smallest of strawberries
with white petal flowers
plush blackberry swaths
of green bushes
spider webs among oak leaves
and acorns
autumn mornings
and damp leaves
stones thick with moss
and mushrooms
blue-spotted salamanders
and the scent of black earth
the cool mist
of a salt-ocean breeze
dragonflies as big as your hand
the delicious smoke
of faded grey shacks
filled with mackerel
the smile of a fisherman’s face
the price of a good deal
the glint of a glass
and the sweet amber fragrance
of a navy spiced rum.
I dream of a home
lost along the way
of things
that used to be