deepundergroundpoetry.com
Payne Creek
They didn't have to tell me that I should notice all the small things along the path to Payne Creek.
I can't help but notice the tiny things, the sound and silence of nature, the greenery all around, moths and butterflies flying topsy-turvy, the rusty brown pine needles crisscrossed on the ground.
The shy ferns still and quiet hiding in the shade of large leaf magnolias, short leaf pines, dogwood, red oak, and hollies.
Along the upper trail wildflowers daydream without expression on their beautiful faces.
As we descend further into the forest the pine trees slowly give way to hemlocks.
Mushrooms grow in the damp, on fallen dead logs, and on the trunks of fire burnt trees.
Along the downhill side of the trail where rainwater flows is a litter of large snail shells without vacancy signs, though they're all empty.
The trail leads down a steep hill and at the bottom, between the rock ledges, in the middle of it all, Payne Creek.
The water looks dormant and still, yet a stray leaf or a cluster of foamy bubbles tell the secret as they are pulled ever do slowly along by an unseen current below the surface of the creek.
Here and there in the stream are a jumbled staircase of rocks and stones over which the water shows its true nature tripping, stumbling, and falling over them.
Meanwhile, below the high rock ledges, surface water permeates and rhythmically drips down making divots in the powdery dirt.
The drips from a thousand years drop from the ceiling of the half-moon ledge making small pits in the limestone, while others splash as they drop at the wide bend in Payne Creek.
On the other side of the creek there's a steep hill covered with forest trees through which sunlight is dappled, sifted by their leaves.
How many shades of green I wonder.
Insects and birds provide an electric drone in the background around this hollow of Payne Creek.
Lichen covered rocks, stump holes and sweetgum balls, and so many other things unseen, unnoticed.
All the while the water of Payne Creek constantly flows through the forest, past this beautiful, sacred, shady place on its way to reach the sea.
I can't help but notice the tiny things, the sound and silence of nature, the greenery all around, moths and butterflies flying topsy-turvy, the rusty brown pine needles crisscrossed on the ground.
The shy ferns still and quiet hiding in the shade of large leaf magnolias, short leaf pines, dogwood, red oak, and hollies.
Along the upper trail wildflowers daydream without expression on their beautiful faces.
As we descend further into the forest the pine trees slowly give way to hemlocks.
Mushrooms grow in the damp, on fallen dead logs, and on the trunks of fire burnt trees.
Along the downhill side of the trail where rainwater flows is a litter of large snail shells without vacancy signs, though they're all empty.
The trail leads down a steep hill and at the bottom, between the rock ledges, in the middle of it all, Payne Creek.
The water looks dormant and still, yet a stray leaf or a cluster of foamy bubbles tell the secret as they are pulled ever do slowly along by an unseen current below the surface of the creek.
Here and there in the stream are a jumbled staircase of rocks and stones over which the water shows its true nature tripping, stumbling, and falling over them.
Meanwhile, below the high rock ledges, surface water permeates and rhythmically drips down making divots in the powdery dirt.
The drips from a thousand years drop from the ceiling of the half-moon ledge making small pits in the limestone, while others splash as they drop at the wide bend in Payne Creek.
On the other side of the creek there's a steep hill covered with forest trees through which sunlight is dappled, sifted by their leaves.
How many shades of green I wonder.
Insects and birds provide an electric drone in the background around this hollow of Payne Creek.
Lichen covered rocks, stump holes and sweetgum balls, and so many other things unseen, unnoticed.
All the while the water of Payne Creek constantly flows through the forest, past this beautiful, sacred, shady place on its way to reach the sea.
Published 5th Aug 2023
| Edited 31st Oct 2023
Author's Note
A group of poets met at Payne Creek trailhead and hiked down to Payne Creek where we spent time enjoying the nature in the National Forest and then wrote a poem about it. This was my contribution.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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