There are boulders even
in dry creek beds, obstacles
for water to flow around – make
the sounds that soothe us so.
Easily identified, some are bolted down
like the mountains with sharpened edges
eerily singing new refrains each night.
We know them. Sometimes we curse them.
We even pray to God to remove them
from our channeled way of going, yet
not believing the music we cherish most
comes from rubbing against them.
(Poems from Dry Creek, 2008)
© 2017 Dry Crik Press
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