taking our leave
Moon Creek
you gave us shelter
safety
refuge
wonder
magic
beauty
stillness
respite
all we can give you
is thanks
Hohou, Neyei3eibeihii*
may your waters flow clear
without ceasing
for innumerable moons
*Thank you, Teacher in Arapaho/Hinónoʼeitíít)
whistling in the dark
the wind whistles around the cabin corners
and I am put at ease
by the warmth and crackle
of the cheery fire
the virus whistles around the wide world
and we are calm
here at the end of the quiet dirt road
knowing it could find a crack any time
hoping that four stout walls
are enough to keep our minds steady
what the spruce knows
it’s that time when the creek runs loud and brown
sending the dirt of the road
through the gulch in a torrent
punctuated by white foam
and circling eddies
thrusting sharp sticks ahead
the air has just gone soft
and the snow is nearly melted
the big animals have gone wary
readying for campers and motorcycles
they move across the steep hillside less
their tracks left after dark
the green things begin to prick the soil
and grow wildly
twisted stalks sprouting thick wavy green leaves
and the Oregon grape strews little suns of yellow
blooms across the ground
the air fills with the sweet promise of honey
she still comes and sits every day
taps my trunk with a warm sideways palm
greets me with the old words
Tous, Neyei3eibeihii*
sits down on my curved trunk
gone flat against the dirt and creek bed slope
sometimes she leans her head against my rough bark
and we think together for a time
sometimes she simply rests
in the presence of Moon Creek’s rush
I breathe into her phenols of calm
and the belief
that above or below the ground
we’re all one
our cells align in revelry
we don’t speak
just be for a time
and when she’s ready
I let her go
*Hello, Teacher (in Arapaho/Hinónoʼeitíít)
Moon Gulch to Robertsons
little family
fleeing here all in a ruffle
disappointment dripping
from your deflated backpacks
when will you learn
that like the everywhen
there’s an everywhere
here I am
wherever you are
radiant with wonders
while you go tallying up your
unseen sloths and pufflegs
missed bays and unexplored jungles
I’m sending you a fox
who will walk right up to you
day after day
and right now a big black bear
is on his way to steal your suet
he’ll climb the tree directly under the floodlight –
yes, even while you watch
I’m making a long winter for you
who chased the sun so long
and Moon Creek is practicing her scales now
to sing you to sleep
hummingbirds, nuthatches, kinglets,
two kinds of chickadees –
they’re on their way to fill your kitchen window now
there will be moose to track
and the first wildflowers to find
and, for a time,
there at the end of the plowed road,
you’ll have it to yourselves
I’m putting out pine cones
and mysterious bones for the children
and quiet stars and the axe
and the wood that needs splitting
for the frustrated adults
so your hearts may come into calmness
and most of all
I’m giving you slow and still
and a while to call a place home
