Tag Archives: creek

OUR ONLY FRIEND

 

                   

                        Beautiful in the world fabric, excesses that balance each other

                        like the paired wings of a flying bird.

                                                – Robinson Jeffers (“Still the Mind Smiles”)

 

                        It was all the clods at once become precious

                                                – William Stafford (“Earthdweller”)

 

Is it fear that judges so, good and evil,

or guilt for easy breath, or lackey to politic’s

endless stream of currency?

 

The creek runs full, carrying deadfall bobbing,

fat limbs lumbering like submarines or whales

to rest upon the banks when flood recedes.

 

The miracle of rain erasing tracks for fresh

beginnings: for another turn of circumstance—

that wild divergence of extremes that want

 

control, like taming wolves to lap dogs

that always fail, even in our minds though

dressed in our latest, eco-friendly outerwear.

 

The devil’s in the details that embrace truth

and trigger memory, that glorious flight

that connects us to time on this earth.

 

 

 

THE GOOD SIGNS

There were no wild turkeys here

when we were boys—no Great Egrets either

mimicking Blue Herons

statuesque in the pasture

waiting for the earth to move

a varmint cleaning house after rain.

 

Scattered atop the ridges,

we haven’t seen the cows and calves

in weeks, the young bulls longer

through December rains.

They don’t need us now,

they don’t need hay.

 

Lifeline of the canyon, the creek

arrived on Christmas Eve

running muddy, coloring the river

with streaks of chocolate

under the new bridge

it took years to finish.

 

And when the Tule fog

leaps and claws up canyon

like a lion to wrap us in a gray

cocoon that shuts the world away,

there’s nothing to do but wait

until the sun burns it off.