I expect it was
the Chinese miners
come for gold
a hundred fifty years ago
who named it Shan
meaning mountain in Chinese
our friend whose house
lies here under the trees
tells us of hearing tales
of mining camps
along the creek
she mentions this
as we pass through a gate
and down to where
the water flows beneath
the forest canopy
dark in the twilight
running over rocks
the little riffles making
water songs
we're told the creek
once hosted salmon
and though now
only a few yards wide
with winter rains
she says with pride
it really roars
in her voice I feel how much
she loves this stream
this place she knew
when she was young
and left
and then returned again
to make her home