Sun shoots of a sudden
right into my eye
reminding me of all
that lies beyond the window
out there where birds fly and I
must attend to the very
important matters of
stone leaf creek and flower
leaving behind the trivial
business of money and taxes
for at least one fat hour.
Creek was higher than I’d ever seen
overflowing the trail
eating away its banks
rushing off like a train
to some distant destination
or anywhere really
anywhere at all, no matter
as long as nothing
got in its way.
It is a moody thing
two days ago so still and low
we crossed easily on a string
of a few small rocks.
But now! I half expect
to see houses carried along
boats full of people in lifejackets
crates marked fragile
elephants giraffes zebras
bankers in their suits
on top of wooden desks
cars swiped from the road.
None of this appeared (of
course) and thank God for that.
I walked that narrow path
along the creek
after three days away
Blue-Eyed Mary dancing
with Sweet William
two dogs racing forth
Kingfisher zooming low
I in my muddy boots
with the deep satisfying certainty
that every One, this I, all of us, were
precisely where and as we should be
breathing being blooming in that
exact and perfect now.
God or Nature has given us
a cloudy wet morning and I
will take that happily today
I’ll take it all happily even
the painful catch in my neck
the awful smells of my two dogs
the ache in my elbow
the roof that persistently leaks
for whatever reason I cannot know
for I have climbed over a hump
a hillock really that once seemed
a cliff with only a jumping-off
place on the other side
climbed over it to find of all things
bluebells! violets purple and white
(and even yellow) two box turtles
one large one half grown
a flutter of chickadees
a merry creek rolling on and on
never giving up never saying
Oh I have so had it with these rocks
this fallen tree that bend those two ducks!
but going on as a creek will do
just because that is what
a creek will do and so
if you please
will I.
Rainy morning following a rainy night
and the little creek where my young sons
played recklessly rubber rafting after
a storm, shooting under the street
to come out on the other side
now rushes by without them.
In the woods lately my dogs
have been troubling the rotting
carcass of a snapping turtle caught
in the roots of a creek-bound tree.
I hope this steady rain has
whooshed it on downstream
making one less spot for me to avoid
out there where creatures lay just
as they’ve fallen
without ceremony
or marker.
For three weeks now in those woods
a cross, flowers and candles
have stood guard over the memory
of a young girl younger by far
than all my sons who seems
to have flung her life away
from atop the bluff
all her hope somehow
fallen to none.
And just that morning I
anticipating the return home
of my two far-flung sons
had wandered with my dogs
in our carefree way
those very woods
where that girl sought
solace by choosing
an end to the only thing
we ever truly own.
Great blue heron perched
on a branch directly across the creek
drawn up into herself a sleek compact
oval of blue grey white and black
unmoving and I stood a long time
studying her wishing I could have a
closer look but as luck would have it
I had left my binoculars at home and
her privacy assured I reluctantly turned
away leaving her just as she wanted.
Alone.