poetry

sidebells wintergreen canticle

This responds to a prompt from the Emergence Magazine Nature Writing class, where we wrote a couple rough drafts then merged the parts we liked of each. This combines elements of mouthing the forest and sidebells wintergreen facts.

sidebells wintergreen canticle

if I press a leaf to my tongue
like a communion wafer
will it bring the Maine woods
right back into my body?
an act of transubstantiation
wintergreen not just standing in for but being
birch, granite, lupine
long-fingered bays
ice crystals suspended in air
all infusing my flesh
like blue juniper berries
pressed close under the skin
of a lean chicken breast
?

I crush a leaf and smell nothing
no, this Colorado wintergreen’s
just not the same
I give the one-sided bells a shake
and there’s only the silence of missing magic
but it’s time to stop looking elsewhere for awe
to grow content with what’s inside
the smallest circle of here

at hand, spruce sap bubbled on the bark
makes 4 small crystal balls
reflecting my place in the world back at me
at a time when divination’s a godsend
I press one gently, then bring finger to tongue
and savor the jolt of spruce essence
clearing my sinuses
fulfilling and fueling a new desire
for something missing from my day-to-day
like when a kiss divulged the plush inside of my lower lip
or when my left foot first stood firm
or my freed collarbones went warm for a week

I never quite stood the same
my ribs expanded
by how sharp life can be

poetry

cuttings

cuttings

one small olive-green leaf
with waxy white bloom
laid gently on a soft bed of soil
will not rest
first it will root
leaf meristem will morph
become what is needed
for this time and place
discover how to grow down
into the deep silent dark
how to become acquainted
with the ways of worms
the frequencies of underground sound
life without wind sun stars
the pressure and exactitude
of finding each fine fissure
where the tiniest root hair might take hold
and then, only after
leaf has tied itself to earth,
it will go back to stretching
trying the feel of new aspects
finding a way to elevate
the flow of energy
to enter the upright world again
with the exhilaration of becoming
more than the world knew
when one first awoke

poetry

Fire + Air + Water + Air + Chlorophyll

Fire + Air + Water + Air + Chlorophyll

sun burns 93 million miles
touches river
still air decides to move in a jungle sigh
beams bounce in shimmering waves
dance across soft undersides of overhead leaves
paint swirls of gold into the green
make a fairy light I now know to look for
as improbably probable as rain + sun = a spectrum in the sky