a January birth
pushed out of the mountains
a bubbly playful stream
happy to slide over the grass
jump the rocks Tahquitz Creek
that burbling child running
under the bridge where I stood
by the time of budding and leafing
snow melt had fattened her
and she held out her arms
spread-eagled to both banks
come June she was
much slower thinner
starving no voice
a begging finger
I never saw her die
some footprints in the dust
appear to look for her
and bleached rocks lay barren
in the deep cut channel
and everywhere all around
so much of nothing
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