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56
a passing thought in the cascades
(up on the m
c
cloud)
From this retreating a glimpse
of a possibility of
a scatter of small unshowy
pieces as certain blossomers
in the left-over bits of habitat
along these streamsides and
tree-dark, cold rock-slopes, where
the ones in the recessive tints
take root, some down to pinhead
size in full bloom (with -- bend
closer -- sometimes a fl ick of
brightness, unpredictable scribble
or dot of crimson or swerve of contour
in the hidden celebrants).
an early spring day on
the upper santa ynez, exploring, doing a little
fishing, bringing in his daypack, along with
trout-flies and lunch, the paperback
greek anthology made
by peter jay
Here were no noises of high-up water
dropping over rock ledges, nor had herders,
in the fi rst big storms last fall, left behind
propped against trees their roughed-in
woodcarvings of the girls of groves, nor were there
young women in cut stone standing under the falls,
smooth beneath their thin dresses of the
creasing water; nor was there any tablet left here,
by a late-summer traveller, in thanks
for the shade and grass and running water.