In the lilting evening breeze, BC and I harvested our first cache of the year, flirting with nature, garden spiders and gopher snakes along the bus stop for the Number 19 (something I love about this city: Our most urban practices weave through wild and overgrown stretches, making you forget, for just one moment, that you are still city-bound).
A Story-Title for "Mokelumne" 2005
Blackberries fall like thorned curtains, staining fingers.
Beaver tails slap
oars gently splash
All sounds competing for my unconscious notice.
One silver tree, caught by the sun’s falling rays
Stands like a blessing for all the wonder there is yet to see on the river.