The beautiful Brushy Creek on the campus of UW-Richland.
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.” Norman MacLean A River Runs Through It
“It is like what we imagine knowledge to be:
dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free” Elizabeth Bishop “At the Fishhouses”
Running water changes everything
and nothing. You can stand on the banks and count
the number of trout you see in Brushy Creek
just like you’ve done for half a century
or more, fishing or just thinking how
running water changes everything.
I like to pause there and pretend every morning
that some of my stress is floating away and down.
The number of trout you see in Brushy Creek
does vary, depending. I confess I’ve never seen
a single one, but that doesn’t make me doubt.
Running water changes everything
about a place. It gives our landscape meaning.
It shows us how to shift some things without
running the risk of harming the trout in Brushy Creek,
without giving up the goal of learning
who we are and what our genius loci’s all about.
Running water changes everything
except the number of trout you see in Brushy Creek.
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Post script: apparently it’s BRUSH CREEK, not BRUSHY CREEK. I think maybe I knew that at some point. Or maybe not. There’s not a sign anywhere, and I am very texty…. And I don’t hear well… But really, no excuse. I’ve been here since 1992. I really ought to know better. But I ain’t changing the poem because Brushy Creek scans better than Brush Creek. Honestly, I think it should be Brushy Creek. I might keep calling it that and see if it catches on.
marniere 