Poetry
Autumn 2021
photo by John F. Williams
photo by John F. Williams
POETRY
Autumn 2021
Before we begin our spider poetry, here is a poetic tribute to one of our Salish Magazine authors who passed away this year.
They’re Just Leaves
A poem in memory of Todd Ramsey, 1950-2021
Lake grass, algae-velveted stones,
floating leaves,
signs of a passing season.
But no one grieves.
They’re just leaves.
I hear a sigh,
an autumn cry,
a breath of breeze
stirs the trees,
a cloud scuds by.
My eyes are dry.
All is still.
He had the will,
his to decide
when to cross
to the other side.
My friend just leaves.
Now I can cry.
—Adelia Ritchie
Aerialist
by Al Gunby
Gold and tan against the setting sun,
he climbs the right-hand bush
(or is it “she”?),
intent on fixing up the web by dinner time,
for insects flourish in the summer warmth.
I’d passed through her creation,
human-style, unthinking —
now the time had come
for her to cast away from safety,
lay a line across the gap,
then build her lovely dining table,
lace designed by eons of experience,
enabled by the act of letting go.
Silent Spinner
poem and photo by Barb Erickson
In your web of silken thread,
Silently you wait.
White and brown, all straddled down,
With jointed legs of eight.
Warmed with sunshine, active now,
Quite still when bathed in rain.
In your web of silken thread,
You stealthily remain.
Stretched so tight with all your might,
It suddenly appears.
First tacked there with gentle care
Amid the dewdrop tears.
Then pulled here and fastened,
Now a strand pulled down,
Stretched so tight with all your might,
Then woven ’round and ’round.
You lurk there with silent air,
Ever out of sight.
Through the heat you hold your seat
Into the dark of night.
Watchful, ever watchful,
Constantly on guard,
You lurk there with silent air,
Hidden in my yard.
When repairs demand your cares
Then you venture out
Tightrope walk, you never balk,
Though difficult the route.
Wind may do its damage.
Storm will take its toll.
When repairs demand your cares,
You patch each gaping hole.
‘Tis your fate to sit and wait,
Patient, so it seems.
If I could, I maybe would,
Peer into your schemes.
Often in the corner,
Sometimes in the eye,
‘Tis your fate to sit and wait,
In your web so high.
Feel the tug and now a bug,
Tangled in your thread,
Struggles in vain and feels the pain.
Numbed, it’s filled with dread.
Quickly you surround it,
Wrapping with your line.
Feel the tug and now the bug –
Hungry, you will dine.
Adelia Ritchie grew up on a northern Virginia farm with horses, cattle, dogs, and her pet pig Porky, who ran the whole show. A long-time resident of the great Pacific Northwest, Adelia is a serial entrepreneur, scientist, educator, and artist, and currently works with educators and legislators to promote a deeper understanding of the science of climate change and its impacts on the complex ecological web of life. Adelia resides in Hansville, WA, with her garden, her dogs, and a flock of very entertaining chickens.
Al Gunby, a retired nuclear/aerospace engineer, has always admired poets and poetry, but finally jumped in in 2002. His work appeared in Ars Poetica 2013 and for six years has been featured in Poetry Corners, sponsored by Bainbridge Island Arts & Humanities Council.
Barb Erickson was born and raised in Montana, and developed a deep love, appreciation, and respect for the land and all its inhabitants. She is a life-long learner and educator. Now retired, she fills her days with nature studies, writing, photography, and volunteering with environmental programs. She’s lived in Poulsbo for 40+ years with her husband of 55 years and a little mutt named Scruffy.
Here’s the link to her blog, Ladybug’s Lair:
Ladybug’s Lair (flyhometoladybugslair.blogspot.com)
Table of Contents, Issue #13, Autumn 2021
The Harvestman
by Thomas and Sara NolandHarvestman. photo by Liam Steele, CC by 4.0by Thomas and Sara NolandThe brick façade next to our front door is a favorite hangout for spiders and moths. During the late summer and fall months especially, it’s common to find two or three...
Rackny the Jumping Spider
by Adelia Ritchie, PhDphoto by Erik Karits on Unsplashphoto by Erik Karits on Unsplashby Adelia Ritchie, PhDI never used to like spiders. I mean, they’re creepy, they have too many legs, some of them can bite, and every week I have to get the ladder and the...
Web Masters
by Barb Erickson photos by Barb Ericksonby Barb Erickson photos by Barb EricksonThey’re everywhere! They’re everywhere! In what seems an appropriate time and place, I love to ramble off this line, in a high-pitched, cartoon-character voice. As my husband remembers at...
Jumping spider
by Bob Gillespiephoto by Dustin Humes @dustinhumes_photography via Unsplashphoto by Dustin Humes @dustinhumes_photography via Unsplashby Bob GillespieMost of us probably began to appreciate spiders when we read Charlotte’s Web. Charlotte was a rather ingenious...
Spiderlings
by Adria Magrath photos by John F. Williams except as notedby Adria Magrath photos by John F. Williams except as notedSometimes, nature calls to question one’s initial reflexes. When first noticing unexpected movement in peripheral, more primitive vision, such as...
PLEASE HELP SUPPORT
SALISH MAGAZINE
DONATE
Salish Magazine contains no advertising and is free. Your donation is one big way you can help us inspire people with stories about things that they can see outdoors in our Salish Sea region.
We also don't advertise Salish Magazine, so please spread the word of this online resource to your friends and colleagues.
Thanks so much for your interest and your support.
We also don't advertise Salish Magazine, so please spread the word of this online resource to your friends and colleagues.
Thanks so much for your interest and your support.