Back in the Bush

I dropped by Millville on the way to the bush and stayed there quite late, setting up a Saturday trip to Houlton, Maine, and how I would come out tomorrow. When I got to the land it was pitch dark, and around eleven-thirty. I waded the creek in sandals using my keychain flashlight which faded more and more as I walked into the bush. I even stepped off the trail a few times.

Finally, I arrived and was soon packing away my groceries and then I went straight to bed. I’d been up until four in the morning the night before talking to my Leens. It was great to hear from them again and confirm that our relationship still holds. I guess I worry about the temporary nature of their feelings. That is likely due to my recent breakup and how unexpected it was, at least for me.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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