From Xanga Blog May 4th 2007 (bringing my stuff over from there a little at a time)

Notes on the Creek and Woods by my House

I ride some mornings
in the dark
on the path
through the woods
near my house
There is a bridge there
over the creek
that was in my dream
even before it was built
I saw it in my dream once
it was there like it had been there for a long time
In my dream
I did not cross it
In waking life I can
it is there now
so I can
Across it I can fly

And fly across I do
in the dark
in the moist
in the morning
with the sun gold droplets
hanging on the dew
saturated haze
dim green and blue
in front of me
With thoughts
on the fevered life
in the water below
Thoughts on the
river that pours itself
into the creek
from above
dumping arrowheads and fossils
as remembrances
Thoughts on the skeleton of an old dog
Thoughts on tin cans, plastic bags and trash
Hooks, lures and line left behind
Thoughts on the doe and her three young
that jump the path in the shadows

Thoughts on crossing the bridge my whole life
even before it was there.