Todd Duncan Tennyson
Well-known member
I recall a high golden plateau.
It was September.
The morning air was crisp, and felt cold on my ears and nose.
The dogs seemed to have limitless energy.
They flushed birds in the coves and thickets along the marge.
My ankles were tight and able.
My legs were strong.
I remember my heart pounding like it could run a city.
There were creeks and berry patches,
places to explore, and even set for a while to just think.
The sky was high and clear.
I was unafraid of anything.
I reckon I was about 33 years old.
I followed those dogs until they could no longer take me to that place.
I had to let them go.
One by one.
Only I remained.
With a box full of ashes and memories in my head.
I think of them in the hereafter,
running and exploring the thickets.
Scrambling along the scree.
Over creases and folds,
and along the creek in the deep valley.
They will wait for me there.
Along the edge of the high golden plateau.
The air will be cold and clear,
My September.
Last edited:
