Morning Walk: Inventory

watched a stick moving, swiftly, ahead of me
saw it glide into the creek and swim,
triangular point poised languorously,
not even a glance at me.

sweatlodge willows have rooted; across the top
a foot tall crown of tender new leafy green
gives living proof of renewal; prayers answered,
prayers uttered quietly in that then covered cave.

clean white sand is a hundred feet or more
back from the creek bank, swept there by recent flood
flashing from torrential rain, unseasonable, that
force of water carrying before it everything, sweeping away

dead limbs, dark matted leaves, thick debris, all gone.
now soft white sand gleams new underfoot.
Mother Nature’s clean up—capricious it is, though,
as here and there living trees fell over,

leaving gaping holes and huge exposed rootballs,
now taller than the downed trees, greyed and withered.
another tidal shift in the ever-changing interface
of land and water along Davis Creek.

meanwhile, wildflowers shout yellow glee at humming bees
as birds call and cry. cool morning breezes lie sweetly,
giving no clue of the coming heat of day. and so on and on…
gratefully, I walk again, earthed, through the woods of home.

Glenda Taylor, at Earthsprings