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Updated: Oct 18, 2021



In February,

Cold, sultry February,

I visited the spring in vain.

The Dancing spirits

Presented her in bright lights;

She smiled at me in the rain.

A friendship’s confiding,

Her presence, mesmerizing:

I think I’ll visit again.

Night fell— I did too—at the moment I was confused

It won’t be a problem if you learn to refuse

The hype. The ever-growing crowd has an overbite:

They fight to feed on me and drink from the springs delight.

In warmer April,

Anticipated April,

I visited the spring again.

The water was cold:

What I have been told is that

The fair spring is always this way.

It is repeating

But never self defeating

I’m in love with the decision made.

Night fell and so did I, in a heap of lovesick sleep.

It shall not be a burden if you know how to reap

The rewards, like sifting golden sand in the mineshaft :

The next time I travel to the spring, I’ll bring a raft.

In the hot July,

Tenth of the cancers cry ,

I would speak and begin to sing.

Water remained cold:

Still, what I am told is that

The bubbles have something to bring.

It’s inspiring,

This graceful uprising

This beautiful uprising...

Scuppernong, I am with you

The spring, I float down your waters

The stream, air is getting hotter

Love lies, bleeding in the great blue

Sky high, it’s the slight of the true

Designs, they give me ecstasy

Your shine, reflects what I see

Inside my mind, eternity with you

In cool October,

The journey far from over,

A storm was brewing overhead.

My thoughts are speaking:

They are telemarketers

In my spiderweb.

The grass is swaying,

The storm is unraveling,

My thoughts hurt, but are not dead.

Trees fell, I’d repeat, in a misery of defeat

Painted clouds, gather round, rip me off my own two feet

It is all so loud, orchestrated phenomenon

Spread my soul out, like the streaming vines of Scuppernong.

I tried to realize the cold was not to keep;

Thunder and lightning crash to cause temporary heat.

To swim upstream and find out what went wrong,

Means the spider in his web is losing his tired song?

In February,

Cold, sultry February,

I proclaimed love for you again.

I aim to shoot high:

I do go astray at times,

But the stream is not at an end.

I am anticipating,

and frigid, but waiting

For a new story to defend.

Scuppernong, I see what’s wrong:

Prairies covered with all broken seams

Remains of a solidified past, seldom seen

Walls torn down and painted in neon.

Yet, as the times change, you belong.

I can be superstitious on the stream,

The water flows like a luminescent dream:

Even in the cold, the spring goes on.

In beautiful May,

Splendid, beautiful May,

I visited the spring in vain.

The water was cold:

After all of the changes,

My spring is always this way.

No matter the setting,

No matter the waiting,

No matter the disputing,

No matter the storming,

No matter the snowing,

No matter the raining,

The water from the spring will always be.

The love streams flow will always be.

Scuppernong. She is my spring.


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