The fires are not here,
they are in the southwest
in Tennessee.
Forests burning.
We went for a walk by the reservoir.
The great spillway, like a highway for water
was dry as a bone.
Drought in the land,
wells drying up,
but don't worry about the fires spreading here.
(Someone expressed concern
because the air is thick like in a city
with vagrant smoke.)
We walk together and apart
at different speeds,
the young not slowing on the hills,
the old dropping back.
We gather at the views
letting grandpa catch his breath.
The reservoir is 6 miles around;
we are only walking 2.
What kind
of duck is that?
Did you
hear that splash over there?
That mountain is called Hungry Mother.
Hungry Mother Mountain.
The story goes:
the Indians chased a mother and daughter
to the top of the mountain.
They got lost and separated.
The girl found her way down
and was caught by the Indians.
Maybe they gave her some food.
She pointed to the mountain:
"Hungry mother" she said.
Two hundred years later I say,
Hungry
land.
(Article changed on November 26, 2016 at 08:38)
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