...with fellow poets, the email flying back and forth, I needed some time to think. Some places encourage thought.
This creek is one such place. We've lived in this area for more than twenty years, yet we didn't even know it was there. I was photographing a culvert when H discovered a well worn trail leading upstream, so we followed it into the forest. Every step was new. For the longest while I listened to the water and stared at the moss. Then I stared at the water and listened. I couldn't hear the moss, but for a moment I could feel it. I wasn't touching any moss at the time and I declined to do so later. Why mess with a memory that feels that good.