Only there–where the water
comes down against rock–
knees of rock, shinbone rock, squat
on heels, rock
set across the creek from my tent
where the water comes down
against this first steep coastal rising
only there–
where water last speaks to rock
the forest
against that rock
water
taking every sound to its numberless song
chain saw rising, whining out of a cut, falling
thump of a log, limbed & bucked & loaded
and where it spills over rocks as if another
truck pulling back up the ridge, empty
only there–
there was no hearing it
only water and the rock where it turns
the water singing
the forest cut down
and there only rock to hear it fall.
Jerry Martien 