Leaf and stick pick-ups done
White crows combing end of April trash,
Two deer skulls bleaching in the basement,
Lighting stones scattered in garage
Like a cosmic storm deposited them,
Plugged with white lightning intrusions,
Small reminders a creative god
Lurks hither, called different names
All from our view, neither hers nor his.
Yesterday at Campbell, five steelhead
All small, fluttering in a riffle
The main run awaiting water swells
To kick-start the sequences of spring
While we sit patiently, walking
Off winter pounds, checking gear, studying
Maps and topos to look for news ways
in and out of familiar places.
I take the spring diety as mute,
Giving us subtle signs for which we have
No common language but guesses
Of the most pathetic wild-ass kind.