REINHABITATION

for Peter & Judy

I spent the first night alone
in the abandoned house
dropping acid

to see what I could see
outside myself.
And I've spent the past

twenty years inside
this acre of irrigated wetlands
learning its quandaries.

How poplars gnawed down
to the roots by deer
grow stronger.

Survive the drought
that kills the cherrytree.
How native lacewings

encouraged in their spider nests
love to feed on thistle.
And how thistle

harvested before flowering
& soaked in drums of water
makes the best compost tea.

Each spring. Each fall.
The wind before the clouds
whipping at the roofs

in gusts & ghastly turns.
A neighbor crushed in her truck cab
by a snapped cottonwood.

I've even learned
the litany of locals who called
this place home.

Mex Snyder. Caroline Young.
Ed and Grandma Foster
planting rhubarb, tending goats.

And now paid for twice
Cloud Acre's been mine to husband.
Siberian elms, Coyote willow.

Forty-nine varieties of
heirloom spuds grown to seed.
Two small children.

Two grown children
& flocks of geese. Red-winged blackbirds.
The occasional Great Blue Heron.

Listening to this one place
its names, its moods, its whispers
has taught me more

about earth
& its deepening wisdoms
than any text.

art goodtimes / © January 20, 2006
union of street poets
vincent st. john local / colorado plateau / aztlán
kuksu brigade (ret.) / san francisco