The Creek of Dixie

I wrote this in a forest preserve while observing a controlled burning, sitting next to my favorite creek. It won 2nd in the Florence B. Palmer poetry contest.

When walking,
Things are found 
That don’t want
To be found.

I walked along the tree line
And scattered the dry, dead leaves
Across the spear-pointed grass.
I spread them, and found ashes 
Trying to hide in the earth.

I was only curious.

Scooping the remains of some
Once-breathing thing into my 
Water bottle, I wandered.
The slightest bit of moisture 
Was consumed and digested
By the ash. It still stayed dry.

I roamed for many long miles
With the shyly shining sun
falling further behind me.
My back became drenched in sweat
And the early evening flies 
Emerged for a filling meal.

That’s when I came to the Creek 
of Dixie, where I heard the 
Choir sing and the creek lament.
Spring was starting, or Summer
Ending, I’m never so sure,
But for the ashes in my 
Bottle, Winter had stayed stern.
Once so hot and full of life,
Prime had past, no rotation,
Turned cool within an instant.

What could have the poor thing felt 
The moment it burned alive,
With regrets and debt unpaid?

I felt an obligation
To do something for the ash,
To cure its seeming unrest.
I stepped in waist-deep into 
Dixie, the creek grew louder
And the tree line stood reserved.
Then, I opened the bottle.

The water took the ashes
Fast, like a lost child’s mother,
Returning them to their place. 

The wind started humming soft,
The grass began swaying fro,
The trees no longer silent.
A jubilation of sorts;
The ash revered after death.
The ash! The ash became clean.

Oh, Dixie shouted for all
To hear, and everyone knew
The Debt was finally paid. 

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

A wonderful poem with great jubilation to read...:).................

[Relic]

Impressive writing Tim. I'm not surprised it came in second. One of the things about a good poem is the feeling it leaves you after its graced your attention and this poem certainly did that for me. That connection between the innocence and helplessness of the ash being returned to the security and respect of nature really comes through on this. Nature is a spiritual entity in itself. Great poem.