Today
As I sit
Under the locust tree
A few passing thoughts
About my youth
Pass through my mind
Like the breeze
Through the locust
I remember
For no apparent reason
The Spring ritual
Many teenage lads
Participated in
Once the ice
Was gone from
The Rideau river
But the water
Was still bone chilling cold
The river was high
From the snow runoff
And the current
From under the hydro damn
Though lazy in midsummer
Came out in Spring
As a raging torrent
It was fool-hearty
But exhilarating
To dive in
And be shot
Down river
Like an aquatic equivalent
Of a cannon ball
The police would come by
And Paddy Dolan
Would tell us all
You shouldn't be doing that lads
It's dangerous
Yes officer, yes Paddy
We know
We'd walk over
Victoria island bridge
And up George street a ways
Wait for him to leave
Then double back
And start diving in again
He never came back
Content just to have warned us
He knew we were young
And care free
No doubt
He had done the same
When he was young
Such are the ways of the youth
And I sometimes wonder
How I got through it
Alive.
A great poem...I can see all this happening. Did you ever find yourself becoming a Paddy Dolan?
At some point, I think most of us (at least males) wonder how we survived. : -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Verily, the youthful days are mischievous and God knows it in anticipation and backs to the ignorants. The poem reminds me, my early youthful days...........10