The Creek By Keith Pearson

He follows the creek.

Nothing else makes sense.

A thin silver voice through the pines

telling him this way, old man, this way.

The sun goes behind the pines.

He remembers when his legs were strong

when he could walk this far and back before lunch.

Now each step is a small negotiation with time.

keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.