Down the canyon walls there sounds the flowing creek

Amid, among, and in between; pine tree’s stand the banks

tall

whispering secrets

hidden from sight

aloof almost, almost hidden, almost mostly though

from the eyes of a bird

seen.

 

Cold waters flow, from  mornings snow to melt to run towards a river

highway to low to where the tides reside

over rocks between rocks

and me

 

Walking the wall

between

creek and fire

with wind trying to intervene

 

Slowly and with determination, the flames creep ever farther

down

down

down the canyon face

 

Soon, the day was over with the fire scolded until cold

while the feet were tired, the sweat dry

and in between the canyon walls; reverberated the laughter

of an ice cold

stream.