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Community/Poem
Full Moon Writers at Black Star Canyon
(written on August 6, 2009/6:57 p.m.)
It is August again and already colors are dying—the brush the red-brown of old blood. It is August again and the red rocks don't yet look red, but the light is moving fast as it always does this time of year. It will happen. Hang on. It is August again . . . the sun still warms the skin even as we approach sunset—the breeze penetrates. It is August again, the sun is long in the day sharp angles of light pick up the golden details of the grasses a million different designs—all curves and silky blades. It is August again— the red rocks bear shafts of light on their shoulders. Gnatcatcher has one last buzzy story to tell to end the day. It is August again which means the beginning of the end of summer, of quiet, except maybe here. August. Its quiet will outlast the end of beginnings. It is August again . . . dry branches and foliage thirsting for a drink from Winter Helicopter fire watch alert for a spark that could consume A threat of losing the beauty of nature to blackened ash It is August again and the lemon light shines gently on the tired and dry grass. The shadows are long and strong, seem endless and bold but I know they will fade soon It is August again, Black Star Canyon where the mule fat dries in the sun counseling patience. The seeds remember: some day drops will fall, will soften the parched ground. Some time, tomorrow or next year, the hills tell us, the dry creek bed will fill again, will mirror the sky. II. These evenings tell us of summer's gifts-- enchanting, abundant now but for how long? This hill tells us it will always be here. There can be towns and cars and all things man made, but it will always be here to provide solid ground and a place to belong, to feel connected to the earth. It will always be here. This quiet tells us that peace must be fought for, claimed, coaxed and carved from the clamor. The warm light on the still golden grass tells us summer is ripe and maybe already fading— the setting sun knows what to do, and when— will the winter storms remember also? The red cliffs lean and tell us that things are a little bit tilted here. The gnatcatcher mews and tells us hope is in the air. Hang on. These colors tell us to prepare the children for darkness, for winter. These trees tell us they arrived here first— mighty they stand yesterday, today, and tomorrow reminding us of all that lasts beyond the stretch of our lives. This light tells us the days will never be longer or the silence so precious, turning it all to gold. Written on location by Dawn Bonker, Carol Connelly, Thea Gavin, Estee Huff, Robbie Nester, Holly Robaina, LaTonya Taylor, Linda Thomas, Gale Weatherby. If you love to write, don’t miss our next full moon creative writing workshops on the following dates: October 10th and November 7th (check the website for specific locations/times). To register for other programs visit www.irvineranchwildlands.org/activities/index.asp |