As you walk onto the bluff above the creek,
sounds of moving water greet you
and you smile. How could you not?
Ahead lies change, hidden secrets
most of all coolness.
Soon there will be flowers, birds, butterflies.
Life awaits.
The desert is stark and dry,
conserving that it must but
below you hear a different rhythm.
It is the sound of water
as it forms small waterfalls
and bubbles over rocks and around trees.
Water conserves nothing
as it rushes to its date with destiny
to disappear into the desert sands.
One day you will walk the same trail
and before you reach the bluff,
you will hear a loud, rushing sound.
Those are the times of flood,
when the canyon recreates itself,
when it uproots trees,
when huge boulders are tumbled
and trails are washed away.
In the days of flood,
water respects no boundaries.
Another day you will walk the same trail
but no matter how hard you listen,
only silence lies below.
Those are the days of a few stagnant pools,
of dark wet sand.
But even then, you feel the spirit of the creek
as you walk along its banks.
It is as though the creek bed is pregnant
with its awaiting.
All of nature, of which you are a small part
knows that someday again
the stream will run with its joyous sound
Butterflies will dance along its banks
The creek will once again sing of secret places
of unknown things.
Life awaits.
sounds of moving water greet you
and you smile. How could you not?
Ahead lies change, hidden secrets
most of all coolness.
Soon there will be flowers, birds, butterflies.
Life awaits.
The desert is stark and dry,
conserving that it must but
below you hear a different rhythm.
It is the sound of water
as it forms small waterfalls
and bubbles over rocks and around trees.
Water conserves nothing
as it rushes to its date with destiny
to disappear into the desert sands.
One day you will walk the same trail
and before you reach the bluff,
you will hear a loud, rushing sound.
Those are the times of flood,
when the canyon recreates itself,
when it uproots trees,
when huge boulders are tumbled
and trails are washed away.
In the days of flood,
water respects no boundaries.
Another day you will walk the same trail
but no matter how hard you listen,
only silence lies below.
Those are the days of a few stagnant pools,
of dark wet sand.
But even then, you feel the spirit of the creek
as you walk along its banks.
It is as though the creek bed is pregnant
with its awaiting.
All of nature, of which you are a small part
knows that someday again
the stream will run with its joyous sound
Butterflies will dance along its banks
The creek will once again sing of secret places
of unknown things.
Life awaits.
(All of these photographs are from this week and of the creek where I have been hiking.
They could have been taken on many such desert streams in the Sonoran Desert.)
They could have been taken on many such desert streams in the Sonoran Desert.)
10 comments:
That looks like a really beautiful place. Thanks for the photos.
It always amazes me how quickly a fairly large looking stream can just disappear into the sand out in the desert. It is a great place to go hiking. Up in the Bullhead City area we usually find petrogliphs that make you wonder who painted or carved them and what those people were like.
So beautiful and serene, timeless. And I love your poem; I feel like I am really there with you each time I read.
Rainy, I loved catching up on all your blogs about the desert that I love! We've taken that same route many times, as my daughter lives in Eugene and we stop there either coming or going. Except at Casa Grande, on our route, we head over through Coolidge City and then outside Florence, on highway 79 - in the Cactus Forest. I never get bored with the trip - but then, I'm easily amused and entertained. :-) I was surprised to read about the javalina attack, everyone in Arizona tells me that they are not dangerous and do not attack people or animals (will run from them instead) unless they are threatened. How very sad for your friends to lose their pet that way. I'm glad you are enjoying your trip South. And your sculpture is beautiful!
Rain,
Winston has named you as a blogger who makes him think; I have visited your blog in the past, but it's been a while, so I thought I would come by and say congratulations.
I very much like the poem. I've never been to Oregon, but I've been to similar high-desert areas in the past, and your poem brought back some memories of those places.
Also, as a native Texan I was very surprised to learn that you have javelinas up there. In my mind they're so strongly associated with south and west Texas that I was a bit taken aback to read about them in your previous post. I'm sad for your neighbor's loss; javelinas are indeed mean hombres.
Beautiful photographs.
I love clicking on the photos and seeing them larger. It is almost like being there once again. The pictures make me want to return to the desert.
I have yet to walk through the desert and would love to. Thanks for sharing the beautiful pictures.
Taking in your words and viewing your photos, I can see the stream, hear the rush and the gurgling, and feel the power of this place.
It is so beautiful to consider a creek in the desert. The power the water has to shape the land is so apparent there. Great photos.
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