Tracking in the mud debris from river and glade; Oh, the mess I made
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Tracking in the mud debris from river and glade; Oh, the mess I made
Feet in sand, ocean waves beckon in rhythmic song; currents carry me
… the rivers
will set their stones and ribbons at your door if only
you’ll let the world soften you with its touching
from Reasons To Live Ruth Awad
–
Raw sound bathes the boy, the ripples of river on stone, he submerges himself, nearly but not really, alone, his mind, a million miles from home
Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon
the moon mistaken for a hole in the sky
from If Fire Jake Skeets
–
fingers in the stars, then,
the galaxy, a tapestry of etchings
I’ve begun to come unwoven again
filling space with words and dreams
Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon
I only use words like stones because we are far away
from Close-Knit Flower Sack by Cedar Sigo
—
We used to search riverbeds and shore lines for the flattest of stone, the thinnest of story, just smoothed-out words, in order to skip across the surface as if what we were saying was lighter than air, but no longer - now we spend time on the odd rocks with strange angles, the kind that makes a distinct sound one rarely forgets, before plunging under water
Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon
make small steps. in this wild place there are signs of life everywhere
from Lullaby For The Grieving (at the Sipsey River) by Ashley M. Jones
–
slow go slow this we know but always forgotten - that the wild places wild spaces have stories to tell, poems composed beneath roots, reverberations of a turning Earth, cursed to forget the role of reader: slow go slow this we know
Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon
This humidity lingers on the lawn, a cat dozing through the day
for Algot
The sky is a century with no windows
from To A Blossoming Saguaro by Eduardo C. Corral
—
lost count long ago of how many rainstorms arrived after you wandered the windows left open, too, time just dribbling in with the wind, letting rotations moisten the frame around which the world might be watched, one tear after the other year until the canvas of sky disappeared entirely
Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon
whose fingers clench the gift of discovery
whose eyes drift towards an open sky
whose streets take in all of the wanderers
whose kindness never seems to pass us by
inspired by “Be Kind,” by by Joe & Terry Malesky Sioux Falls Sculpture Walk https://sculpturewalksiouxfalls.com/sculptures/2024/be-kind/ via NWP Write Across America: South Dakota
A little too late now to wonder whether the wind will take what it needs
We've gone to seed
Loosening our insides to release soft strands of whatever it is that leads us believe
We've gone to seed
inspired by “Gone To Seed,” by Nathan Johansen Sioux Falls Sculpture Walk https://sculpturewalksiouxfalls.com/sculptures/2024/gone-to-seed/ via NWP Write Across America: South Dakota