childhood joy,
can you remember
those fond, childhood joys?
backseat window watching,
your own reflection, one of elation:
multiple mounds of green hills,
brindled black cattle grazing,
traversing, scenery sweeping by and
swiftly; fields afar while lightning strikes far off,
but yes, too far for my concern.
then a red barn and
a towering white silo of some sorts,
slowly passes nestled peacefully.
swift streams splashing,
over shiny rocks teasing
the road by darting toward
her and then away from her
and then under her.
a crowded family car of seven.
yet You accompanied me
then as You
accompany me now
and You too remember my
joy, that joy, and You’re calling
me back to it, now.
Gary Edward Geraci
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