Ithaca beckons me via dream’s call ~
summer’s returning inside green woods,
to her long-fingered lake
and her Buttermilk Falls.
A large white man standing up tall
knows in his bones
and sure strong heart as well,
tells me true words clearly aloud,
Ithaca is where
he can be
at his best.
My ex-wife and I speak of this place
and our time here together
drinking her beauty.
Those decades ago we can still embrace,
tho’ now with separate homes
we’ve travelled far differently.
The fresh sweet spray of Buttermilk Falls
and the hike upstream slipping in water
which coats and flows over smooth glacial rock,
enliven my body, my silver spirit in gladness
as homeward I point towards
dear Ithaca!
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