Catalina: the creek

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.

(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.)