Clack Clicking to Waters Edge


Water flowing, rushing swirling, eddying. Water falling, sheeting, cascading. Water gurgling, bubbling. Water placid. Water bringing life. Water like a mirror. Water quenching thirst. Water transforming. Water soaking into a summer dry bed of bleached sand, cracking thirsty rocks. Water softening hard edges. Water soaked up by parched roots, on the verge of brittleness, through sapwood or stem for new growth. Water for frogs croaking in shallows. Water for deer drinking on banks. Water for ducks swimming along reeds and grasses. Water to reflect the sun, the sky, the clouds. Water a fragile plane between two worlds. Inviting; a cyclist waddles clack, clicking in steel cleats and rigid soles down a steep bank to waters edge to dip fingers, break surface, merge. 


Like perennial courses in any arid region, our San Gabriel River is a completely
different entity when it carries water.

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