HUGH CALKINS
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This poem is dedicated to Old Dan Bell, who, when he was young, lived along the Highline Canal and maybe climbed these trees, or trees like them, just as I did, several miles downstream.
Death on the Highline Canal
The cottonwood trees along the Highline Canal are dying now,
or dead.
Their sun-bleached trunks and broken limbs lie across the sand
where water flowed,
but doesn’t now.
Yet still, each spring, those that remain,
and many do,
send aloft a billion tiny seeds,
wrapped in spheres of cotton,
hence the name.
With the hope, if trees can hope,
and I think they do,
though not like you and me,
that some will drift to a cool, damp place,
take root,
and carry on the line.
Or better still, that one such sphere, or even more,
may bear the mutated seed from which will sprout
A plant to bear the heat, withstand the drought,
The cottonwood of our future.
HUGH'S WORK
As an Elder in your family, what advice do you give (or would you give) to your children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces to help them safely navigate the turbulent conditions of today's world?
Be cautious of advice from old men.
They’ve been around a long time, but
they got a lot of things wrong, and
they still do.
