Whisky River Poem by DONALD SCHUSTER

Dark with a swollen spell
Cleansing a thousand worries,
The wild eyes of imagination bloomed like
A thousand flowers
fresh and alive,
This feeling this was me.
I was
Running through the American River full,
With rot gut whisky and pounds of foolish dreams,
Watching
As the smell of wheat
dribbled down my face.
The sweating heat on
The green banks
Melted on my face,
And I could feel reverence
To the king I had become.

The dike filled with dust
And a million cricket's feet
Singing like jesters
Became my throne.

The stars danced
as I lay
hugging the flat earth
as cherry as tomorrow
with the warm river running
singing at my feet,
I was
like a young wild stallion
free and happy.

ES Donlad