at Eagle Creek

At Eagle Creek 3,000 years ago
  a magpie peered out from behind the leaves
  of a cottonwood
  and saw insects dancing above the water

And she knew that this was good.


At Eagle Creek 2,000 years ago
  a deer brought her fawn to the edge of the shoreline
  and they drank and listened to the chant
  of a squirrel

And they knew that this was good.


At Eagle Creek 1,500 years ago
  a bear stuffed his face with wild berries,
  scratched his back against a pine tree,
  sniffed at the air

And he knew that this was good.


At Eagle Creek 500 years ago
  the first signs of human habitation began
  to make its presence felt
  as a miner on a horse spit into the wind

And a sparrow wondered if this was good.


At Eagle Creek 100 years ago
  a dirt road became a passage to the Rockies
  and hordes of mule trains pounded the soil
  throwing dust into the eyes
  of mountains

And the soil knew that this was not good.


At Eagle Creek 50 years ago
  towns sprang up, complete with saw mills
  and noise and a cacaphony of unnatural
  death

And the creek knew that this indeed was not good.


Today at Eagle Creek
  you can hear her flowing by from the highway,
  as thousands of automobiles spew out
  carbon monoxide
  and planes fly overhead
  and garbage piles up on
  her banks.

And she wonders if she can hold on
  and the magpie and the deer
  and the bear and the sparrow
  only visit occasionally

  while trees stand forlorn,
  coughing and sputtering

  in the wind.