Going Coastal

a poem by Ceó Ruairc

When days turn brilliant and cool
and the forest breathes
with footprints seldom seen
when these dark trails
are mostly mine

I will rest immersed
in piles of Maple leaves
sleep in this amber glow
until Squirrel stops scolding
and even Wren becomes brave

I will dream as I bathe
in her melodious song
as wild Wolves return
a flow of grey
whispers in the woods
running

I will watch Salmon struggle home
from their ocean run
as glistening Bears dine
on river-gifts
and the great rains come

I will give thanks
for the unfathomable
connection of it all
this balance of give and take
death and birth
summer fruits fading
into rich black earth

I will burst open
with the sweet grief
of knowing
my smallness in this world
then slowly trace
a sinuous path home

Returning
I will step lightly
silent as the moon
golden leaves in my pockets
chlorophyll in my veins
fragrant as the earth

Naturalist/poet, Ceó Ruaírc writes from wild places, inspired by wolf song, coastal storms, and the tenacity of trees.

Poetry and Prose Shortlink

The Arrowhead

by Pat Holland

2015 BetterArrowheadPix-Holland

Sometimes my winter walks across the farm were more like winter scrambles than rambles. Whenever the earth froze and hid under a thin layer of snow, footing was chancy. Even a clump of dried grass could cause a stumble.  Putting a foot down in mud often ended in a too-swift slide downhill.

Yesterday, I took the long path down to the creek. I heard wild turkeys gobbling down there—I supposed they were talking to each other about the weather and walking conditions. Birds walking? Yes, from previous trips down that path, I knew that the flock of turkeys rarely lifted off to fly more than a few feet above my head.  When I spotted them yesterday, they were keeping their heads down—probably looking for food—and good footing.

I was keeping my head down too, watching the obstacles in my path so I wouldn’t stumble. Then I saw it, an arrowhead gleaming in the sunlight.  Weather conditions were just right; the ground heaved it up into the light from deep below the frost line. I knew that during a hard freeze the ground would often swell upwards and bring buried treasures to the surface.

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Poetry and Prose, Reflection Shortlink

I AM STANDING IN THIS PLACE

by David Sparenberg, author of Life in the Age of Extinctions

i am standing now
i am standing in this place:

i am standing at ocean shore
i am talking with water
with sand and water
(in mist
of betwixt and between)
i give myself to you
may my presence
be healing energy
do not abandon
the children of humanity

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Poetry and Prose Shortlink
Enlarge

An Ode to Nature

by Madison Woods
This poem was previously published in Madison’s blog.

Madison Woods writes, creates, and communes with nature from the Ozark Mountains of northwest Arkansas. She and her husband founded Wild Ozark, LLC with a desire to align their passions with their livelihoods. Madison offers readers an opportunity to reconnect to nature through her blog, photography, stories and books.
Contact her by email.

Here are the words of the poem, in text:

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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Untitled Poem

By Larry Robinson
Sent in by Robert Greenway

Here’s a poem that a former student and now colleague sent in the other day. F’or me, it reveals the way a poem — in part by its very ambiguity, in part by it’s “rhythm” — reveals nature, ecology, big mind, little mind, egoic mind, etc.

easiest-to-relate-to-the-airOnce there was a time when it was necessary
to remove ourselves from nature. Once.
To distinguish, to see within
these selves is the objective. It’s second nature

now. This chain-of-being buried
& nearly forgotten. Paved over in sediment
like walled in cities, lessons in childhood,
other experiences qualified or in need of

the missing link. “Man is held highest on Earth
& below the Angels.” The intention:
toward God. Then later, toward a controlled state –
technology. The competition is fierce

& it is not. An Angel (many?) who inhabits
the rock suggests you skip its flat surface
on the river. Interfacing the world of eyes,
you pick it up: sentient self awareness

beyond the organs of particularity. Yes, you are
the rock & each plant & animal whose dust
compresses here. A moment of your time.
It is easiest to relate to the air.

Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Red Path Spiritman & This Is

Two pieces from David Sparenberg, author of Life in the Age of Extinctions (free download), starting with Red Path Spiritman:

native-american4A man stands on open ground.  His arms stretched wide, his chest lifted, his head tossed back.  Facing skyward he hangs by the spider threads of creation.  He hangs by mere light beams of the sun.

Nobody forgets this young man.  Nobody forgets the earth warrior.  He watches over the continent of Turtle Island.

Elders gather to chant and remember.  Women come around making circle, to wail and moan, and to shed tears.  Children stand by, silent in awestruck wonder.

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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Gestalt of the Dialogue

by David Sparenberg, author of Life in the Age of Extinctions

We cannot talk about greening
without talking about peace
We cannot talk about peace
without talking about justice
We cannot talk about justice
without addressing injustice
We cannot speak of injustice with integrity
without talking about the problems of injustice
such as race and poverty, exploitation
and so on.

We cannot talk about the problems
without talking about indifference to suffering
We cannot talk about indifference to suffering
without examining the labyrinth of violence
We cannot speak of violence
without talking about hatred
We cannot talk about hatred
without talking about fear
We cannot talk about fear
without addressing the mutuality of vulnerability
and the given condition of relatedness.
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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Tree Marriage

Submitted by Linda Buzzell-Salzman

Tree Marriage
by William Meredith

In Chota Nagpur and Bengal
the betrothed are tied with threads to
mango trees, they marry the trees
as well as one another, and
the two trees marry each other.

Could we do that some time with oaks
or beeches? This gossamer we
hold each other with, this web
of love and habit is not enough.
In mistrust of heavier ties,

I would like tree-siblings for us,
standing together somewhere, two
trees married with us, lightly, their
fingers barely touching in sleep,
our threads invisible but holding.

from Effort at Speech. © Northwestern University Press, 1997

Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Finding Galleon’s Lap

by John Wickham

As a child I was perplexed why mountain climbers would return empty-handed.  They always ascended as if hunting for something lost or left behind.  Then venturing up with my parents to Camels Hump in Vermont, I too looked around.  But the journey down lasted 30 years until I climbed back for  the meaning of the summit.

Still a youth, my descent from the mountain began with a emotional detour.  I weathered internal, opposing forces.  While discovering the passion of the guitar and composing, I was playing war with friends as soldier-boys.  As a young adult I pursued both vocations, music and the Army.  But lurking in the underworld were the disharmony and battles for my soul.  Psychic-combat left no victors, only a downward trail into fog and darkness.

My last Army duty was at Fort Carson, Colorado.  The Post sits like an armpit wedged between the Great Plains and the jutting Rocky Mountains.  Fierce lightning storms would often park there in the Summer.  It was then I felt a magnetic tug upwards to misty peaks that seemed to pierce through into sunlight.

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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Simplicity

by David Sparenberg

Photo by Amy Lenzo

Since Bach first made a fugue
the simplest melody of a flute
on a hill
has been looked on as poverty.
But a hill is not poverty.
Day, daylight, the sun, seasons
air
breathed through the flute player, sent
dancing through the wooden throat
of a finger-holed flute—
this is not poverty.  Go aside
‘til you find the paradise of simplicity.
Ask yourselves there in that
kingdom of God:
What is the worth of philosophy?
What is the truth of ecosophy? Continue Reading →

Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Lead Us Not Into Extinction

Prayer Of the Animals
by David Sparenberg

haeckel's art forms from nature

Our kin,
who now possess the land
where once we roamed,
plentiful and free,
lead us not into extinction,
but deliver us from the devouring
dis-ease of human greed.

Give us this day
(even unto the seventh generation)
a belonging-place to be
what we are, and in harmony
with All Our Relations.

For yours is the power
to restore or further destroy
the Sacred Hoop of Creation.

Make a warrior’s choice
by honoring unity in diversity
of the Great Mystery.
Let Spirit guide you
back to Creator’s vision-dream:
We Are All One Family.

Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Canto

by David Sparenberg

We progressed until we reached the latest rung in the Inferno.  There before us were two seething pits of new made hell, carved like gouged eye sockets in the fearsome, rude desolation of blind punishment.

The first of such was as a lake, thick and deep with blood.  Over this body of violence an angry wind whipped in bursts of crazed fury and waved in rippling obscenities of gurgling cries, gagging groans and ugly screams of pleading agony.  Awash in the blood thick muck, swilling and knotted into fist sized clumps, circulated currencies of all the world—some nations contributing more to the horror, while others less.

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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Tending to Trees

a poem by Mary Sokol, PhD

Newly arrived,
this Spring day and I
to this place.
I,
walking the perimeter
exploring color and texture,
of land,
ground,
forest.
Woods reveal
themselves
to me,
woods,
frame in
my land
frame
my home,
woods defining me.
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Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Forest Symphony

by Dr. Theresa Sweeney Ph.D. Ecopsychology

“If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?” My friend and I jokingly debated this age-old question on our way into the woods for an afternoon hike.

We walked together for awhile before coming to a familiar fork in the path. One leg led to a small pond the other up and over a ravine. This day my friend was attracted to scaling the ravine but I was feeling rather tired and wanted to take the easier trek towards the pond. So we split up agreeing to meet at the water in a couple of hours. Continue Reading →

Links, Poetry and Prose Shortlink

Wind of February

by Chitola Utsanami

The wind entered through the sills and our nostrils
Plundering our hearth.

You could see it earlier that morning
Raising an army of snow into drifts and then walls.

The fox and the deer felt this army before.
One went into a deep musky den, the other made a shallow bed under a
shield of fir, fur and fear.

No creature was safe.  No one was immune to its progress.
Even a low bearing vole would not dare bore holes in such a snow. Continue Reading →

Poetry and Prose Shortlink