The Devil's Punchbowl
We shouted and made signs,
drenched in the pounding cascade.
Puffing, we felt along the walls
for faults we could use as stools.
We cound that waterfall decades ago
on our honeymoon, backpacked in
with our twins, caught in a flash flood,
that cliff no place for toddlers after all.
Miles from our nearest grandchild,
we groped for something to hold to,
the slick floor sloped. In mist
and on our knees, we squinted
like when we were kids ourside at night
on the grass, staring through darkness
at stars, trying to make sense of it all.
Under the thunder of water
always the same and changing,
we held each other and shouted,
shivering, all we needed for now,
no war, no madness anywhere.
(This poem first appeared in Tar River Poetry )
Walt McDonald was an Air Force pilot, taught at the Air Force
Academy, and served as Texas Poet Laureate in 2001. In May 2002,
he retired from Texas Tech University as Paul Whitfield Horn Professor
of English and Poet in Residence. Native Texans, Walt and Carol
have three children and eight grandchildren. |