that rock fall used to be a trail with a small
creek meandering alongside, wild grasses
and fruiting bushes clinging to the sides of
the steep slope; bears used to wander there in
the fall stuffing themselves for winter.
i wandered there myself many times, the crowds
were on the other side, i heard their laughter
echo across the steep walls of the canyon and
through the lush forest, interrupting the swish
of my courdoroy pants as I walked along.
we drove north today to see houses broken in
two, a family room dangling perilously over
a river bed filled with boulders, the water running
like a small creek again, looking ridiculously
small meandering through a wide bed of boulders,
highway fragments, pieces of a roof once attached
to someone's home, the landscape is no longer
what it was, we walk in a strange land now and
nothing will ever be the same again.
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