April 11, 2009 – 20 Miles Off 101

this time of year you can hear clearly the rushing intent of the stream even though it can’t be seen

it cuts
every second it’s cutting, moving and cutting, zig-zagging, digging deeper as it goes, a perfect perpetuity

rippling cacophony
the sound of it becomes everything, negates everything, is as if unstoppable, its roaring way made

it swirls
instead of faltering, swells into haystacks defying its state, then calmly into eddies and calmly into pools

the canyon
it’s gnawed sits in gentle acceptance, almost embracing, always approaching but never encroaching

waiting to be washed away

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