By Cris Alarcon, InEDC Writer. (April 21, 2025)
I. The Gathering at the Switchboard Hall
Sing, Muse, of an eve where words took wing,
In Placerville town, beneath spring’s soft fling.
Where twilight gathered the curious and wise
’Neath Switchboard rafters and gold-rusted skies.
From six till eight, the time was set—
A free-born feast of alphabet!
Where art met voice and verse did climb
The ladders of old, through rhythm and rhyme.
At 525 on Main Street fair,
The folk arrived, with open air.
Their hearts were tuned to song and page,
As poets strode the humble stage.
Refreshments passed, no coin did part—
Just honest hands and hungry heart.
II. Moira of the Elephant’s Eye
First came Moira, Magneson named,
A woman of words, by wilderness claimed.
Her book, In the Eye of the Elephant, born
From April’s second, in poetry sworn.
Sixteen Rivers gave it sail—
A press where poets share the tale.
Lyric and narrative, wild and free,
Her stanzas sang of beast and tree.
Of elk that walked through dreaming dew,
Of fox that vanished from mortal view.
Experimental echoes rang,
With nature’s breath in every pang.
She read aloud with iron grace,
A stillness swept the gathered space.
And those who came with silent thought
Felt in her lines the world she sought.
III. Susan of the River’s Risk
Then stood Susan, Norman bold,
Her memoir whispered rivers cold.
Tis Risk, her tale, not yet unsealed,
But promised truth when all’s revealed.
From She Writes Press, the tale shall leap
In June, when snow-fed torrents weep.
A champion cast on whitewater’s foam,
She danced with danger far from home.
In kayaks carved for mountain streams,
She chased her fate and forged her dreams.
Through Forest Service trails she ran,
A steward of earth, both beast and man.
Yet deeper still the waters ran—
She braved alone what few began.
To motherhood through heart’s adoption,
Her story swelled in love’s eruption.
She read with voice both firm and kind,
Each word a spark, each breath designed.
IV. The Legacy of the Evening
O, El Dorado! Land of gold,
Thy treasures now are stories told.
Not mined from rock or river deep,
But verses sown where silence sleeps.
The Switchboard walls shall long recall
The night when voices filled the hall.
When Magneson and Norman stood,
Two heroines of ink and wood.
Let those who seek the sacred fire
Attend the call of truth’s desire.
For in the hills where miners toiled,
A richer yield was softly boiled—
Not silver vein nor lode of ore,
But human hearts, and so much more.
For more information, visit Arts and Culture El Dorado’s website.
