By The Creek They Call ‘Kanaka’

By The Creek They Call ‘Kanaka’

Through my window there, just a few steps away,

our Creator’s handiwork is on full display,

as an ever changing novel, unfolds each and every day,

on the banks of the creek they call Kanaka.

                 

I came far from a place, often covered with grime,

long saddened faces, streets full of crime,

to this place of cool mist, or warm sunshine,

overlooking the creek they call Kanaka.

 

In summer, when the air sings high in the trees,

a bear sometimes visits, as bold as you please,

it sure brings a start, weeding down on your knees,

stay alert near the creek they call Kanaka.

 

A squirrel drops by, to replenish its store,

hawk and eagle soar high, to see even more,

down swoops a Steller’s Jay and gives us what’s for,

it’s so loud by the creek they call Kanaka.

 

In autumn falling leaves start to open the view,

I simply stare in awe, to see what’s new,

the ducks all return, by an unheard cue,

snow may soon fly over the creek they call Kanaka.

 

Winter can bring ice, that groans and creaks,

then starts crashing downstream, after staying for weeks,

the sight of the mountains, the snow covered peaks,

is a bonus, above the creek they call Kanaka.

 

Springtime brings back colour, at first subtle green,

migrating birds, to places man has never been,

the ducks are still at it, sounds a little obscene,

new life returns to the creek they call Kanaka.

 

To the forest, we often go to explore,

tangy wild berries, and blossoms galore,

sprouting new leaves, replacing those on the floor,

warm days are coming to the creek they call Kanaka.

 

Our cat often goes there, in search of a chase,

comes back hell for leather, with shock on her face,

what did she encounter, why so much haste,

from the banks of the creek they call Kanaka.

 

Long days of summer, out tending the blooms,

other hobbies left idle, in rainy day rooms,

close doors to invaders, those pesky racoons,

skulking around the creek they call Kanaka.

 

Would I ever leave, or go far away ,

a new place to live, work, love and play,

my answer to this, a resounding, no darn way!

I’m firmly planted by the creek they call Kanaka.

Albert Richard Hooper. 1999.