March 14, 1996: Spring Creek

For a class project, my young cousin Allyssa Ridings recently shared some of her memories from a part of Southern Illinois widely known as Terrapin Ridge — the home for over 50 years to Beatrice Ridings, my grandmother. Many knew my Granny Bea as Aunt Bea or Miss Ridings, and at her home, just about everybody who was alive at the time on my mother’s and father’s sides of my family experienced things there that formed some of their warmest memories. Allyssa’s essay triggered my own recollections, and searching through some of my past writings, I found this poem, written about 13 years ago when I was wanting to cover a lot of ground in the fewest possible words, and recalling a time from even earlier in my life, when my brother and I had taken a common adventure from Granny Bea’s house one sunny spring day when we were boys, and ventured up Doris Creek. Granny Bea played a big part in that day’s full story, and so did my Uncle Jim… but it all began with being young, being out there on Terrapin Ridge, free to experience the natural world with my brother, and the phenomenon whereby things sometimes quickly go to hell. This poem is from a collection called “Order for Chaos.”

SPRING CREEK

by Roger Darnell

start out along
skipping down
you are feeling good
butterfly sweeps
wheat field tips glisten
sway sailing fast as
feet can fly slamming
across splintery shards
gravel bee buzzes by
brother down o! my brother down
crash treads naked feet
smash blood-thin skins
give way bird clears
road for loco boy
spring's day ruined