Friends,
Mary Oliver famously said that she could not be a poet without the natural world and many nature-poets would agree. But does the natural world need poets?
In the company of other naturalists, artists, and wild philosophers of our ilk we can say “yes!” because we connect with the creative energies of the cosmos in our own creativity. Perhaps the natural world does not need poets exactly, but the future of the planet depends on creative and compassionate human beings. Wildly writing poetry is good for that.
Every now and then we save some wildly-written poems — instead of giving them to the earth or to the fire — and sometimes even share them in public. Last Saturday our friend Joelle Wellansa recited her poems at Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts in Omaha. I hope you love them as much as I do.
— Jack Phillips
Sparrow
Each sparrow lands and jitters
Takes up residence in the corner of my eye
Then vanishes quickly over my doorstep
Horned Howl
I bend my knees
We watch, mouths gaping
We listen, and hear nothing
Then screeching
Then memories
Then sadness
Shadow
A birds shadow strikes the dirt
A blink of light redirected
So am I
Vultures
In the distant sky, Turkey vultures drift
on a gentle current
Their hypnotic rotations immobilizing,
Stirring up a terrible dream
The Swallow
One quick swallow dips on wings
Too fast to know where she intends to be led
Carried by her soft carriage
A conduit of light
In my field
Extension of sky
Collection of water
The ancient color repeats her wings
Blue heron elopes with my eyes
(Photos: Song Sparrow by Troy Soderberg; Joelle by Emily Hergenrader)