A few miles east of Tuttle, Oklahoma is the creek that meandered by the place I called home for many years. I call it the Deep Cedar Creek. It is a tributary of the South Canadian River, close by the old Chisolm Trail.

A November Afternoon

Down I walk to the deep cedar creek,
along the less-traveled trail;
searching for certainties under the sun;
longing to see through the veil.

The sunlight falls through branches above
where leaves still stubbornly cling;
holding their place for a time in this world
against what the season will bring.

The sunlight falls through waters below,
clear to the bronze-coloured bed
The leaves descend too;
into the stream, by whispering winds gently led.

The old trees stand dignified
their reach too narrow to mend;
guarding the shape of the water's descent;
guarding the shape of the wind.

And together under the sun we stand;
understanding not all that we seek;
holding our place for a time in this world
down on the deep cedar creek.

Next poem: Dusk Storm

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things