The River Poem by Andrew Moss

There is a place, down by the bank of the river
where I go to write my poems
Twixt the trees and the plants which stick up sharp
And at the base of an old oak tree,
I will sit,
and I will look at what is good
With my eyes closed
while people pass me by,
On a path not far away
Why don’t they search for my screaming?
Faint though I know it to be,
There are tree people whispering
a countless chorus crying
Forgive god his trespasses

And I try to remember where I am
because sometimes I forget where this place is
if
It isn’t just some dream
And sometimes when I look for this place
I can’t find it
So I hang out in the new parking lot
down by the river
Built when they said there were too many transient
Individuals
down by the river
At least now I have a place to skateboard