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)