Friday, March 8, 2013

magic from water

the pebble and the flow

down by the creek, with light snow flurrying,
I see rock and rapids and pool as a stage
upon which I have played,
and where water has given a touch of magic
to my children and grandchildren, my students and connections,
all the way to folks I haven’t know were even here,

all these actors still seem to move about,
just shifted away,
like ghosts in the memory,
bubbles of being that pop up
and burst softly away,

my mother found this spot
and secured it with long hours of work over decades,

here where the kid in all of us can play,
where we can play with nature as a friend,
and without the corporate strings that love to make us dance for them,
those toys sold on screen and in stores,
bright and shiny baubles that don’t endure,

a large snowflake on my hand is there and quickly gone,
like the moments I treasure,
and the creek endures,

I love to apprentice myself to nature
and help new generations treasure the pebble and the flow.

by Henry Walker
March 2, ’13

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