Autumn's Walk

Not much,
A ragged dirt path
From my grandfather's cabin,
Petering down not much a hill
To a river hosting salmon.
Young i'd skip, her hand in mine
Or chasing fellows as indians.
Giant endless trees, roaring rapids.
Running at 19 with fresh breath and spry limbs;
Each forest's limb familiar,
With ancient favorites
Well suited for a break from the sun.
The river a cool swim.
Slowly walking with stick now,
Not a skip or run.

Yeah,
Has to be counted among my best of friends;
Just the area, this place.
I've talked to him,
I've heard him answer
And start new conversations.
When defining a companion
That's the definition.

DyMc