Ann Arbor Review


Alan Britt
Shutta Crum
Jumoke Verissimo
Las Slomovits
Richard Kurtz
Lyn Lifshin
Duane Locke
Serena Wilcox
Jerry Blanton
Dami Ajayi
Odimegwu Onwumere
Joanie Freeman
Dike Okoro
Amit Parmessur
Paul B. Roth
Divya Rajan
Kim Keith
Fred Wolven
C. Derick Vann
Al Ortolani
Steve Barfield
Jim Davis
Chris Lord
Jennifer Burd
Will Swanson
Isabel Kestner

Lisa Schmidt
Running Cub
Tolu Ogunlesi




Beneath the bark
of an alder rooted
beside one twisting tributary
that feeds the White River, which,
because of its blind winding
and the sampling of earth
it carries through each night,
knows this valley better
than any sharp-eyed crow
short-cutting to sea,
a new message is carved
in an ancient language
we have yet
to understand.


                                      DIAMOND SPRINGS

  While growing up, I drank from the earth.  That is, our neighborhood spring welled up from the ground just an acre, or so, above our own land and the home we built ourselves.  In the depths of the ravine beside this spring, cold seeps brought to its rocky surface Crisp Creek, which defined the very center of our property, before reaching out around the bend and feeding the salmon hatchery.  Untapped water flowed from springs on both sides of the creek's ravine, and on the flats below, a soda spring once sourced a business of glass-
bottled soda water sold for its medicinal properties.  Our neighborhood was named Diamond Springs in honor of the water that has for centuries so purely and abundantly flowed from its twin hills.
             Now those who push to improve the land will pave over the great earthen bowl where, 40 years later, I still find my sustenance.  They look toward a future of their own emerald empire, just beyond some empty horizon, but they cannot see the crystal water that recharges beneath their feet, beneath their ideal of productive businesses and thousands of houses, all made in the likeness of each other.
              Even science tells us that humanity is more than half water.  Along with what flows beneath the surface, the households of Diamond Springs will wither and evaporate as the soda spring business did upon the advent of plastic-leaching bottles and the scientific proof that the spring water held no medicinal properties.  All that will remain are snapshots of forgotten picnics in the grass beside the creek, drinking lemonade made from cold springs and the warmth of the abundant sun. 


Lisa D. Schmidt, Federal Way, Washington




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