Abstract
over, and that following summer had been the hardest for her since Darrell died. Mice! Mischief makers! Ever since, she had been careful to put poison in the attic. She had had no more problems with mice. Clear Creek My mommy said the creek never runs dry. My uncle said, no, never, not in his life time or their father's before them. Rest his soul in heaven, that creek never runs dry. Water so clear from riding on the back of that dark, gray slate, So slick that the water just glides like sheets of ice. It runs over naked fossils of coral and hard rounded géodes unbroken, Holding back crystals still growing in their entombed bellies. The sycamore trees hang close to Clear Creek Roots spread, nestled tight to the rocky bank Like ladies dressed in gowns, spread out in display In the summer wearing their fancy best. Bosoms full of heavenly beauty. Clear Creek never runs dry, No sir, never that we know. —Marilyn Gabriel 61 ...
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