I
will tell you about a place that is secret. I share the secret knowing
you
will never see it. Still it is worth mentioning, for to me it is a special place.
There is this place I go. I just call it going down to the creek. The creek is
a patch of wild
surrounded by city. It is still wild in the sense that it
is unexplored and unvisited.
That is why I like it. It is my personal domain,
for no one else comes down here.
It is not handicap accessible. There is no
entrance sign.
The creek is hidden down in the woods. Invisible to
passers-bye. They don't take
their eyes off the road. Too busy coming and
going. You have to get your hands and feet dirty to find it, but once there....
You find incredible beauty. White rocky cliffs, river fern, green
woods, wildflowers,
and animals. Hawks and owls live here, and an assortment
of native birds.
Coons & Coyotes prowl its banks.
You can see the signs
they leave. Their footprints. Their trails.
All here in this little patch
of wild. Off the road. Under people's noses.
The creek is just a little
creek. Not much to it at all. But it has a rocky limestone base
and so the
water always runs clear. It makes a beautiful sound as it wiggles its way around
the woods. Once in a while, I'll see a perch in it. Or a turtle. Maybe a snake.
Schools of minnows swim in its blue pools. Each pool has its own school.
The
minnows run under rocks when they hear me coming. They somehow always know
when I approach. They have nothing to fear. I bring no net. I have no gear.
The
tracks of wild animals are found on the creek's bank. Odd shapes left in the mud.
You
will see places where coons have dug. Where herons have waded.
Where armadillos
have dug.
Coyotes run through here at night, hunting rabbits. Working their
way into the neighborhoods,
in search of cats or poodles.
Along
the cliffs there are seeps where the water trickles out in mini springs.
The
rock then becomes stained. Turned orange by the iron in the soil. Huge chunks
of these rocks fall off the cliff face exposing fascinating fossils. Fern shapes
and ammonites are engraved
in these rocks.
Almost every fallen rock uncovers
something. It is like opening a present.
After a rain, I can't wait to see
what new thing has opened. What new surprise exposed.
Another thing
interesting about the creek is that it changes with every rain. This little creek
catches
water from many neighborhoods, so when it rains all the run-off flows through
it.
Consequently its channel changes with every rain. It moves over, left
or right. Sometimes
it leaps its boundaries. You can see the high-water mark
by the debris in the trees and along the bank. The little stream can be quite
willful, going where it wants to go. Even a little creek
can be contrary once
in a while.
Where the creek goes under the highway is a tunnel. It
is dark as a cave.
The entrance looks like a cave. Dark and daunting.
But to me it is inviting.
Begging for exploration.
Inside, there is just
enough light to see toward the distant opening on the other end.
I like to
walk in here. The water runs under my boots so I have to be careful not to slip.
Careful not to trip on the limbs or debris washed down in past rains.
I can
hear the cars above me, the rumble of the roaring herds.
No one above knows
the cave is down here. No one knows I am below them, being run over. Literally.
Still it is safe here.
As cool as a real cave, and the trickle of the water
is pleasant to my ear.
I am happy...
Happy as the creek itself,
singing its little creek song.
Happy that it can find its own way. That it
has been left alone to be a creek,
not a drainage ditch or sewer. Running
free, making its own way, like it has done for
hundreds of years.
I find it odd that no one comes down to the creek, but me. This creek is such
an idyllic place.
A place where one can find beauty and find oneself, in solitude.
But
I think it is that all sense of exploration has been bred out of our citizens,
our selves.
Children do not explore anymore. The have lost interest in the
out of doors.
They have their computers. Their video games. Their ever-present
phones.
People keep to the comfortable. The easy sidewalks and straight streets.
They have become uncomfortable with nature but comfortable with pavement.
Me,
I find the hidden places. Those places where nature still has a hold. The natural
places
where you can still walk on grass, feel the softness of the ground
beneath your feet.
I speak to trees. I sing with creeks.
I keep company
with the wild.
© d.knape
July 14, 2013
More "Once
Upon A Line" - Light verse and poetry by d.knape
Related Topics: People
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