stories brought, stories found

 back here again

when I get to the mountains,

much of me is not yet fully here,

as I relax story after story surfaces

from my heart to my head,

the ongoing shorts I have a part in:

my students and their struggles to get where they need to go,

my colleagues, like me, are stretched so thin

that, like Bilbo would say,

there's too little butter

to cover too much bread,

lists jump into my mind of what I need to do

both professionally and personally,

yet, here at our cabin, sitting by the leaf-choked creek,

I start to call up the stories the natural world lives:

first I see the pool by the creek

where 50 years ago I cleared a way to be by it,

with rock steps down to it,

all seamlessly fitted into the land,

with a flat place to put a portable playpen

for our first born son,

I could then be by the creek while taking care of him,

the pooling water there a draw for our kids and countless others

who follow their whims and play with water and rock, and each other,

once we saw a snake work to swallow

a rainbow trout at the pool, 

we work to pull rocks from the stream to deepen it

and we use those rocks to make dams that hold the water some

so that we can dip in it,

not much over a year ago,

a mother bear and 3 cubs cavorted in the pool,

and my cousin got a video of it,

5 minutes of their playful spirit

and their distinct personalities

expressed and caught on a digital phone's recording,

I sit here now and ache to hear even more stories in my mind:

the pine tree falling 15 years ago, and still there,

on top of the great rock by the pool,

where many of us sat, discussed crawfishing,

that downed pine has captured dead hemlock trunks, 

killed by the adelgid,

and soared down the valley 

by excess rain from climate change,

I seek to notice and appreciate the leaves

which cover everything

and help any dams to hold the water,

I watch one leaf float gently down the pool,

then 5 more, the leaf dam grows,

tomorrow, I want to appreciate 

the story of fallen autumn leaves even more,

let alone whatever stories

the grace of nature reveals to anyone ready to notice.

by Henry H. Walker

November 18, ‘23