I visit this ditch almost every morning. Along its edge, earlier in the summer before the mower came, the chicory and alfalfa and milkweed were in spectacular bloom and fragrant. This is wild mountain water & even in a cement channel retains its own poetry. I coast along the edge and stop to gaze where it takes an abrupt turn north before it arrives at two gates that split it and send it under a highway and on to separate destinations.
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