By Jeffrey Kee
They came from the city wad in hand,
Wanting a horse and a little piece of land.
The realtor painted a rosy picture,
One acre, two horses o’ sure.
In June, green grass tall and dry,
Come December the water got high.
Horses to their knees in mud,
Good ranch management hit with a thud.
Out for a visit here came District staff,
Winter in the field, where is our raft?
Keep those winter hooves out of your field,
Avoid wet pasture you’ll have better yield.
Catch that rain water before it hits the ground,
Easier water can not be found.
Buffer with grass those wetlands and seeps
Protecting clean water will help you sleep.
Plant a hedgerow to catch those weed seeds,
Use wild rose and robins you will feed.
Slip a new cedar next to your stream
Good fish habitat starts with a dream.
Protecting clean water will help you sleep.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
In my Mouth
By Jeffrey Kee
Sea birds everywhere.
Gulls bobbed, dropped and pelicans cut the water.
Cape Disappointment glowed to the North.
And from the 10 buoy East, man had come.
Some to guide, some to fish, some to see the mouth,
Enticing fish to come aboard.
Fog whitecaps, and barges test courses,
Many have braved into the waves.
In pursuit of a legend, a story, a myth.
The big Salmon river of the Pacific Northwest.
A spirit of man sliding seaward,
Seeping into his Columbia.
Sea birds everywhere.
Gulls bobbed, dropped and pelicans cut the water.
Cape Disappointment glowed to the North.
And from the 10 buoy East, man had come.
Some to guide, some to fish, some to see the mouth,
Enticing fish to come aboard.
Fog whitecaps, and barges test courses,
Many have braved into the waves.
In pursuit of a legend, a story, a myth.
The big Salmon river of the Pacific Northwest.
A spirit of man sliding seaward,
Seeping into his Columbia.
The Dance of the Columbia
By Jeffrey A. Kee
The estuary surged and pulsed with life, a natural rave.
Like an enlarged muted Phalarope it spun circles dredging life to the surface.
The gulls and pelicans and murres flew and bobbed around the choppy watery stage,
Picking up the little silver slivers of baitfish lightly streaking the surface.
Mammals drawn to the feast slid over and under.
Man and animal searching for salmon sustenance and spirit
A thousand boats rocked, enticing with flashers and fish,
As the sea lion ripped the belly of a lone Chinook.
Coho, cutthroat and King danced amid the forces,
Pushing, pulling, slipping and sliding.
Pushed by the river pulled by the tide,
The fish changed partners called out by the moon.
The hum of the motors and bang of the hull couldn’t interrupt the partners.
The gala of the year for many ending in August.
Baitfish flashed like a mirrored ball around the dancers.
The pulse of the players less synchronized at ebb and slack.
Forces of the natural swinging for survival,
Same players, same partners, same ancient steps.
The estuary surged and pulsed with life, a natural rave.
Like an enlarged muted Phalarope it spun circles dredging life to the surface.
The gulls and pelicans and murres flew and bobbed around the choppy watery stage,
Picking up the little silver slivers of baitfish lightly streaking the surface.
Mammals drawn to the feast slid over and under.
Man and animal searching for salmon sustenance and spirit
A thousand boats rocked, enticing with flashers and fish,
As the sea lion ripped the belly of a lone Chinook.
Coho, cutthroat and King danced amid the forces,
Pushing, pulling, slipping and sliding.
Pushed by the river pulled by the tide,
The fish changed partners called out by the moon.
The hum of the motors and bang of the hull couldn’t interrupt the partners.
The gala of the year for many ending in August.
Baitfish flashed like a mirrored ball around the dancers.
The pulse of the players less synchronized at ebb and slack.
Forces of the natural swinging for survival,
Same players, same partners, same ancient steps.
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