Tag: nature poetry

Big Sur

A whale spouted by and I dreamt of the story my life could tell.  I remembered many loved and lost, I received the world, had a conversation with the cosmos. A whale spouted by, the vastness deepened.  I sat, hands in lap, left over…

“Many Miles” by Mary Oliver

The feet of the heron, under those bamboo stems, hold the blue body, the great beak above the shallows of the pond. Who could guess their patience? Sometimes the toes shake, like worms. What fish could resist? Or think of the cricket, his green…

Ephemeral

There are transitory moments between seasons when the world comes out of its dressing room, so stunning we lose our balance. This moment of spiritual frenzy does not wait to be discovered. It comes and goes like a fire of dry kindling, and can…

Now and Again

Now the giraffe-like lily, turning its head to look northwest out the window in graciousness. Now the blackberry – summer’s thimble – is incubating, its exquisite shape perhaps philosophized over at a celestial seminar where Father Sun and Mother Moon are merely attendees, two…

Witness

Again, I rose early and walked in shale gorges both smooth and jagged, by the wild water and evergreens.  I moved through the day like an athlete though my feet are broken, my throat so sick of onions. Again, I sense the presence of…

Many Brothers

Connection erases age, weakens constraints, strengthens the bond of brotherhood. I have crossed many valleys. I have loved many brothers. Treetops creak and bang the way the screen door did in my own lost boyhood. A wind has risen.  Dying leaves pray for us…

A Great Many Sparrows

You know there are a great many sparrows in a tree when your view of the tree itself has been almost completely obscured by the birds. There are three ways to see these birds as they leave the tree in the morning, a single…

Plants and Animals

If I were a plant, I might arrive at silence and stillness a little more gracefully. I might meditate with greater success. If I were a plant, I think you would find that – impossible as it seems – I am both an annual…

A Handful of Daylight

A tremor in the foundation, the end of things as we know them – we dare not speak of rising water, just quietly build the levee. Strange to view a conclusion so absolute through a lens of knowing turned back on itself, from the…

Gratitude and Grace

The hills, how they roll. Softly sloping emeralds bejeweling the crown of August with its high corn and sunflowers drooping their heavy heads, like me, in silent celebration, a noiseless halleluiah. The world, how it glimmers. How it appears to be sitting still, beneath…

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