Blue Creek Every Other Day
by charles potts
Often when I go back to the land
I find myself crying
Listening and watching Blue Creek
Flow over stones that form it
Standing on a basalt outcrop
Covered with moss
My eyes as wet as the rocks
Mystified by our presence
Stepping carefully not to mash
Blooming and thriving wild flowers
In alternating sun and rain.
Often the wild animals stare back at me:
The wistful deer with flickering tail
The curious coyote sampling the stranger
Disturbed elk with velvet antlers
Gliding through the underbrush.
Fatigue the next day is how I feel
Back in town, back in my own bed
Muscles grip me wholeheartedly
Asking me to move into the earth
I canâ€™t escape from.