The noisy diversions
like crow and coyote
drawing mothers off
from helpless babies.
It takes a clan
to raise blackbirds, nests
stacked in the redwood,
a squadron to attack,
ride and peck the head
of a cruising crow
moaning in retreat
as its mate shops for squab
to feed their own.
Between the yard trees,
the cackling battle churns
with aerial acrobatics,
evening strategies,
each new act
our entertainment.
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.
Noting repeated references to ‘granite’ in my poetry, a dear friend emailed an audio link of Thobar Phadraig reading his poem “Stone” that reminded me of “Stone Poems” by Douglas Skrief published by Starhaven (London, 2009), who also published my “Poems from Dry Creek” in 2008. Relating this ‘granite’ thread to Robbin last evening, she remembered my poem “Obstacles” and the circumstances that spawned it.
The Poem Notes from that book: Written while haggling over the language of a conservation easement intended to preserve the ranch, this simple poem was, and continues to be, a solid touchstone for difficult times. After approximately three years of emotional discussions, we abandoned the concept to concentrate our energies on improving the ranch and our cowherd – tending to the business we know best. Included in “Still in the Mountains,” 2004.
Our notion of a good poem is not dated, so we have decided to post some of my earlier poetry here from time to time.
drycrikjournal 