Monthly Archives: March 2014

Dry Creek

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The two Wood Duck pairs in the raft of leaves at the down water gap are only 100 yards above where the creek has made it down the channel. No raging torrent, the creek arrived here this morning. We’ve been watching its progress two miles upstream for the past six weeks or so, drying back with high temperatures near 80 degrees as the sycamores began to take on water to support new leaves. Typically, the creek is usually running by December, some years without the benefit of recent rains. The creek is the physical and psychological lifeline for all life in the canyon.

 
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It’s estimated that the creek carried 20,000 cubic feet/second during the Christmas Flood of 1955. The USGS gaging station was washed away during the Flood of 1967, relocated before the larger Flood of 1969 that measured over 14,000 cfs. According to the USACE Hourly Reports USACE, current flow is 5 cfs. Though paltry, we’re tickled to see it.

SACRED SPOTS

                                There are no unsacred places;
                                there are only sacred places
                                and desecrated places.

                                          – Wendell Berry (“How To Be A Poet”)

We listen with our eyes,
turn pages back, hear
and learn the language

of all-flesh praying.
Certain ceremonies linger
in the air, cling to rocks

thrust up from the earth,
always ready for the sky—
places young boys came

to become men standing
among the Blue Oaks
for generations camped

below. You will know them
when you find them,
when you stop:

sacred spots for gods
to rest and try again
in case we need to pray.

 

 

                                                      “How To Be A Poet”

WPC – Abandoned (2)

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A lone Blue Oak that has provided shade for cattle for as long as I can remember, well-before we hauled horses in gooseneck trailers. We still park and unload them beside the old tree to the gather the pasture, but it’s just not the same. Its limbs twisted within one another while alive, it must have been like a house of cards when the high winds came on August 18, 2013, to leave them resting against its trunk.

WPC

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WPC – Abandoned (1) …

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…before my time. The galvanized casing of an old water well, perhaps a windmill, elevated to fill a tank or water trough for livestock.

WPC

OUR WINDOW

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Have I become so hardened by this prolonged drought that I am reluctant to express much joy with our recent rains, ever vulnerable, afraid to let my guard down? A drop in the proverbial bucket when considering the bigger picture, am I afraid we may be spurned again with only two months left of our grass season—too long in a dry rut?

But none of this obstructs our evening conversations, finding lines of poetry in the space between us. I pen my name—and you hear rain like applause on the roof.