Walk along the Rough-and-Ready Ditch

I took a walk before the rain today
The grass, cautious green, will deepen once the storm.
The trees and shrubs flowering pink and white
Melting mountain snow has found its way onto the plains
Filling the irrigation ditches once again.
This ditch by which I walk is watched by massive old cottonwoods
Soft with bud;

Mallard pairs paddling
A hawk watching the ducks
Swarms of children on a playground for afternoon recess
Shrieking, laughing, bouncing, calling;
Five teenage boys daring one another across the full ditch

“Hi,” says one as I pass.
“Hi,” I say back. “Are you going to jump the ditch?”
“Thinking about it,” they say.
“Great.” I say, “I’ll watch.”
Energized by my audience they cheer each other on:
Ry-AN, Ry-AN, Ry-AN!
Tre-VOR, Tre-VOR, Tre-VOR!
The first inspects the bank
And then backs up to get a running start,
The second mimics the first, the third the second, and so on,
Each one leaping the breadth of the ditch and
Narrowly missing a cold baptism;
I clap for all five.
“Well done!” I cry.

Further down the path, a Chihuahua barks and rushes
Its wooden fence;
A small hole has been cut in the boards
So the dog can shove its head through
And defend its territory, such as it can see.
But it’s hard work to bark when your head is stuck in a hole in a fence
And maybe that’s the point.

There is a lot of world that one can see on an hour’s walk

Before the rain.

—April 15, 2016