Salt Creek Trail
Just a simple little bridge
Over a stream a dozen yards wide
And barely a few feet deep
On a quiet trail little used
In summer, less in winter.
I’ve walked it after a light snow
When the only other tracks
Were the trundling possum
The leaping squirrel, the alert cardinal,
And the sage and watchful raccoon.
Still, it’s a place I’m close to
And I’m so far from being able
To explain what that means
I know better than to try.
I’ve spent a lot of time
Leaning on the railing
Watching the rounded rocks
Seeming to flutter under the wavelets
And the hand-sized fish
So young, shimmering, eager,
So much fish-life to look forward to.
And sounds. I think if you dropped me here
Blindfolded, I’d know the month by sounds:
Leaves in summer wind, or crunching underfoot,
The hushed snow, the living rain.
Just a little bridge, but no—
An axis, a gateway,
A hand held out,
An offer of gentle guidance.
— Andy Hubbard, Brown County
