Siona Koubek: Old Neighborhood at North Port Village

Walking with a cow calf pair

by Ruth Hill

Ruth Hill was born and educated in upstate New York.
She has traveled North America extensively,
including two years exploring Alaska and
five years sailing BC. She is now a Certified
Design Engineer in northern British Columbia.
Over 60 of her first year works have been
published. Some of her poems have been archived
in Word Catalyst. Ruth enjoys email.






When I dreamed, I dreamed a poem that came out all as one word like a rope or a DNA strand or fiber optics with no word breaks or line breaks or punctuation. First I started to write it out on paper but the paper was not wide enough, so I made a scroll and wrote it all out in Hebrew, backward, but that was not enough because it still had words, so I went back to hieroglyphics and Phoenician, then Sanskrit and papyrus, then Chinese paper and silk worm webs and golden threads and even further back. You were just walking quietly through the woods with your crook and your crooked smile behind a newborn calf and its mother, and the motion of your body walking and cow lumbering and baby wobbling and coyote bobbing and raven dipping was the language and it sounded so good. Not even a zephyr zithered old leaves in the stubble. You were humming and I was humming and I felt the humming inside me. The cheeky creek was showing the sky what it could be, bouncing its image back to itself all sparkly and dancing. The sky answers, showing the creek how it draws moisture from thin air, spills on the hills. There was a holy place where they became one. It was whole and I was whole. It took sixty years to get to this beauty and I realized it had to sustain me another forty years. This is the dream.