August 1: Childhood Memories, Keith Taylor, "Prairie Fire"

I have to say that you can't leave all of your problems behind when you go on vacation.  They come with you.  If you are struggling with money, those struggles come with you.  If you have health problems, you still have to take pills.  If you're an addict, you might as well pack a suitcase for your addiction.

That's a simple fact.  I'm currently at the Boyne Mountain Resort on vacation.  We've been coming here for several years in the summer.  It's beautiful, quiet, and a little old-fashioned.  It reminds me of the places I used to go to when I was a kid.  A little touristy, filled with all kinds of families from different places.  Basically, it's an upscale Mackinaw City.  (Those of you who have never been to Michigan will have to Google that reference.)

Childhood vacations have a tendency to move from memory into myth.  The good times seem even better.  The waterfalls seem bigger.  The mountains seem taller.  The amusement park rides seem more dangerous.  Those sepia times are gilded with all the hope that comes with youth.

Saint Marty hopes he gives his kids some sepia memories these next few days.

Prairie Fire

by:  Keith Taylor

                            i.m.:  Donald Taylor

Uncertain about the difference
between his memory and the myth,
the thing he'd been told and what he'd see,
he kept the image of rising clouds
of black smoke looming like dark mountains
to the west, with a flickering skirt
of fire growing larger, noisier,
dancing through the grass toward home.