Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Visiting the Proposed Site of Los Banos Grandes Reservoir
We’ve all managed, somehow,
to reach the summit. California poppies
clinging to the hillside that reaches up
in front of us. Our line of hikers wandering
up the trail in a ravine between the grassy hills
from which we looked back at Los Banos Creek,
a skeletal Sycamore casting shadows
on Pudding Stone and glassy water.
Our journey began early. The reservoir
boat ride took us leisurely through the Tule reeds
by the shoreline beneath the ancient sandstone
cliff. Heron floated on long silent wings.
A pair of Kingfishers was spotted
through binoculars. We listened
to the sounds -Western Grebe, Coots -
watched the Small Mouth Bass
swimming near the boat.
Path of the Padres took us
past an ancient Yokut village site.
Coyotes watched us from a grassy slope.
Wild pigs ran in front of the cattle
on the gravel and disappeared
into the Salt Cedar, Cottonwood and Willow.
A school of Carp scattered when we threw
a rock, and regathered in the same spot
in the pond near Pounding Rock,
the Indian Grinding Stone,
where we stopped and saw a Killdeer
guarding her eggs. Then we climbed
to see Menjoulet Valley, looking west,
570 acres, six miles, the largest
Sycamore grove in California.
to reach the summit. California poppies
clinging to the hillside that reaches up
in front of us. Our line of hikers wandering
up the trail in a ravine between the grassy hills
from which we looked back at Los Banos Creek,
a skeletal Sycamore casting shadows
on Pudding Stone and glassy water.
Our journey began early. The reservoir
boat ride took us leisurely through the Tule reeds
by the shoreline beneath the ancient sandstone
cliff. Heron floated on long silent wings.
A pair of Kingfishers was spotted
through binoculars. We listened
to the sounds -Western Grebe, Coots -
watched the Small Mouth Bass
swimming near the boat.
Path of the Padres took us
past an ancient Yokut village site.
Coyotes watched us from a grassy slope.
Wild pigs ran in front of the cattle
on the gravel and disappeared
into the Salt Cedar, Cottonwood and Willow.
A school of Carp scattered when we threw
a rock, and regathered in the same spot
in the pond near Pounding Rock,
the Indian Grinding Stone,
where we stopped and saw a Killdeer
guarding her eggs. Then we climbed
to see Menjoulet Valley, looking west,
570 acres, six miles, the largest
Sycamore grove in California.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
On This Mountain
Each tree a world
every rock a discovery
the creek in pools of light
the river and its tributaries -
rarely do I understand myself
or anybody else. The fox runs.
The squirrel climbs, and mankind
so full of holes and contradictions.
Half of this canyon
in sunlight, the other side
in shadow, the sky
its own kind of blue,
whichever way I look
the overwhelming details
taken as one or taken
as a whole,
sugar pine cones,
Tiger Lily blooms,
this one chance with words,
granite holding up the air.
every rock a discovery
the creek in pools of light
the river and its tributaries -
rarely do I understand myself
or anybody else. The fox runs.
The squirrel climbs, and mankind
so full of holes and contradictions.
Half of this canyon
in sunlight, the other side
in shadow, the sky
its own kind of blue,
whichever way I look
the overwhelming details
taken as one or taken
as a whole,
sugar pine cones,
Tiger Lily blooms,
this one chance with words,
granite holding up the air.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Harmony Lane
Our house is open to the air
of last night’s rain, to birdsong
and shadow of pine trees.
of last night’s rain, to birdsong
and shadow of pine trees.
Remnants of a hurricane
from Mexico
paint Sierra mountains,
a dull varnish on the ridge,
a cloudy coating on the sky.
All these things are pages in a book of days.
They turn like oak leaves in the breeze.
They are as weeds, and wasps, and butterflies.
They are read in the colors of the field.
In painting this picture
I give you a window and a view,
an understanding that the road here dead ends,
that the dark is splendid
and the stars unlimited.
an understanding that the road here dead ends,
that the dark is splendid
and the stars unlimited.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
On This Mountain
On this mountain
night and day
by sun and sky
moon and star
by all things gone
and all things are,
by shadow dappled
sunlit meadow
forest edged
and road less yet,
nature nurtures
changes.
What of me?
Friday, April 4, 2008
Trout Fishing With a Friend
smooth
arcs precise
placement
a fly
lofted
on the surface
of the current
softly
wet grasses
in the stream
sing music
to us
arcs precise
placement
a fly
lofted
on the surface
of the current
softly
wet grasses
in the stream
sing music
to us
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