poetry

Trees & Eggs

Trees & Eggs

finally I give away something we don’t use
to someone who doesn’t have it:
plastic Easter eggs
I haven’t filled in years –
our sun reducing the contents to chocolate puddles
before the cousins could even assemble
no, all we do now is hide the hard-boileds

today we tint the thin white shells
in spring shades
ready to disappear them into the waking-up grass
we save the chocolate for the basket
safe in the shaded confines of our roofed house
high on a table safe from dogs’ jaws

today I start reading Nine Ways to Charm a Dryad
at the cabin and am overcome –
it’s been so long since I lived in forest –
(36 years) –
so long I hadn’t guessed we’d reunite

all I can say’s
thank you God for all these blessings

all I can do is
bless myself with spring water
shake the grandfather tree’s branch
open my heart
and let the forest take up residence
in that long-vacant cavity

poetry

how we have been changed

how we have been changed

the Californians speak of fire hardening
ask if we’ve done it
no, but perhaps it’s been done to us

so many of us are like the survivors
in a forest after flame
you see the blackened triangular fire scars
for decades reaching up from the earth
marking the moments
when the tree might have become wood

but there’s also fire softening at work now

a new tendency to give others the benefit of the doubt
to not question whether they might have
had their misfortune coming to them
to give whole-heartedly, finally
embracing the there but for the grace of God
or a shift of wind
go I humility we all ought to have

it’s much too soon to see
how this fire will mark us
how we might now meet the world
what tangled undergrowth might have been
cleared out of our chests by
such a fierce blaze

poetry

a sweet offering

a sweet offering

early July and the trees smell like matches
each cloud is a blessing of shade
and (less likely) possibly rain

today the first wild strawberries are ripe,
ruby packets of pleasure
even the smallest souls can reach –
how can such sweetness come
from sun rain rock air?

and what comparable kindness
might I possibly make
given all the energy poured into me
these 47 years?

poetry

Jumbo Mountain Speaks

Jumbo Mountain Speaks

come rest your weariness
here on these hard rocks
with a stiff wind
that will buffet your body
proving the heart
entombed in your aching chest
still beats

face west
toward the long white wall of peaks
back to the cities
the fires the glass
those are fights for another hour

feel your hardness
drain into the rocks beneath your palms
your porous bones no match
for their fixed crystals
you were not meant for this
a soft bleeding body
that weeps water, not ice

just sit and be
while the wind works its way into you
until your rage flickers out
and there’s a new space
between your ribs

I know what it’s like
to feel your heart mined out
set upon by pickaxes
swarmed by the rapacious
proving up on false claims
of their right to strip the world
of whatever life they like

and I know
how to lie still
every night
and stare unblinking
into quiet stillness
until my shoulders ease

it takes a long time
for the ore to lose its currency
the forest to gain a voice
and the scars to grow over
but you can see
all the little aspen now
their young leaves
fizzing with joy
reminding you
that evil subsides
when value systems
shift

poetry

mouthing the forest

mouthing the forest

to feel at home
I put the forest on my tongue
little sweet safe bits
to bring the scent of sap and duff
right into my mouth

wintergreen leaves
sparked with living magic
cool, sharp, energizing

sassafras stems
the rich root beer taste of cozy mitten leaves
chewing the petiole flat
while the long blade hangs out my mouth
giving me the feel of a deer

Indian paintbrush corollas
drawing spring green from a fiery red throat
testing the base for the quench of nectar
in summer heat

wild strawberries
anywhere, anytime
little dabs of garnet lusciousness
never abundant enough to overdo it

honeysuckle (in town)
pulling the pink and yellow tube
from the green calyx
sucking sweetness through

raspberries
hands stained red
pulling off a few here and there along the trail
rolling the stuck seeds around my mouth later

chokecherry
best when they’re wizened
left hanging so long the acid’s been baked or frozen out
a dark purple deep old-time sugary taste

blueberries, crowberries, salmonberries, flower petals (some)

spruce sap
it sat bubbled on the bark
four small crystal balls
reflecting my own place in the world back to me
at a time when divination is a godsend
I gently pressed one, then brought my finger to tongue
and it exploded with spruce essence
opening my sinuses
and making me feel satiated
while also fueling a new hunger
giving a taste to something missing
or at least in too-short supply in my current day-to-day

it was like the day
my collarbones grew warm
or a kiss introduced me to the smooth inside of my lower lip
or my left foot first stood firm on the ground
unforgettable and exciting
leaving me wanting more
while also feeling amazed
at how sharp life can be

poetry

on guard

on guard

in these woods
I scan between
upright trunks like barcodes
looking for big blocks
of wild flesh
wondering
what might be
around the corner
for us all

poetry

Katalapi

Katalapi

en el bosque
con las Cotes
el agua canta por nosotros

the notes, rapid and green,
clear away the cobwebs between ourselves
leave us feeling
like we’ve drunk from a cool spring
freshen our eyes
and still our thirsty tongues

we make ephemeral circles
understanding nothing lasts
understanding also joy is the honey
that keeps us flying into the thistles

the most powerful thing I did today
was share breath con un canelo
and put a tiny, black, shriveled seed
into the earth –
now something might someday root

poetry

knobbed hornbills overhead

Owen took these photos.

knobbed hornbills overhead

like the thick whoosh
of hot air balloon flame
they lift off

you don’t need to
let your eyes leave the trail
to know they’re overlooking you –
you feel it in the helicopter pulse
their wings make

if you’re lucky you might catch
a long black cross sailing away
and be satisfied

imagine then
seeing the pair clearly
flying down the open valley
level with the canopy
black bodies bookended by
yellow red & blue noble heads
and trailing white tails

and the most amazing part is
there’s still a forest big enough
for their grand presence