Poetry 25
by multiple poets
Autumn 2024
Starflowers. photo by Barb Erickson
Poetry 25
by multiple poets
Autumn 2024
Desolation, first
by Deborah Poe
1.
a buck approaches the campsite (velvet antlers)
fireweed spreads like its name
the first plant to grow in forests
after fires burn back vegetation
but this is a day made of sun
still words swallow our tongues
we take them into our thighs, the height
2.
trying to read the glacial flour—
the way glaciers grind against bedrock—
one knows more than the others
is it “tree” or “three”?
“desolation” or “elation”?
are we climbing to, or between?
3.
motor and wed, sprayed with lake water, together in transport fueled by westbound and pulse
deciphering the switchback, the back-and-forth re-
call
stories we tell only ourselves
— the absent hair twirl
— the geometry of eyelashes
— mouths a name in three syllables
— blue air that smells like memory
— fresh coffee
— nicks on the bamboo floor
— from the mountain another mountain, peaked edges
let the afternoon swim beneath itself
4.
much to learn of the relationship between silence and speech
comes from this day’s trifecta
distance and intimacy underlined by the lake insinuated through grounded needles and angled space
5.
landscape lexicology
not a collage, but assemblage
less three filaments than terrain tapestry
boundaries without binaries
not what the scene is without
but all the breath it holds
Trail of Spring
by Barb Erickson
The river gurgled, splashed, raced on
Above, trees reached down with mossy fingers
We take the trail, narrowed now by
Snowberry and oso berry crowding in
The dark way spattered
With blooms of maples and catkins
Damp, rich smells of mosses, fungi, and elk dung
Floor busy with fringe cup, starflower, and cleavers,
All pushing out and upward
Seeking the light
My four-legged companion leads the way
Nose and tail busy
Often taking a route I have not chosen
For his way is not mine
I do not care to smell every blade of grass
Douglas fir tree. photo by of Barb Erickson
At a Y in the path I stop
Stunned by the enormity of what stands there,
Arm-span wide,
Dark, with thick coat of green moss
Face to face with true giant of the woods
A mighty Douglas fir
OH, if it could tell me what it’s seen
Of rumblings, upheaval, and ice
But, more likely, it would say
“WHO are you — who disturbs my peace,
Fouls my air, tramples my bed?
Your kind has broken my limbs, destroyed my canopy,
Fallen my brothers, ripped out their roots.
I am wise in the ways of the wood
And so I remain silent, let you pass,
But I know and do not forget
In the hope you will learn
See, I point the way, that you might discover
The wonders, the unfathomable — and ask yourself:
‘WHO AM I
To think I am in charge
Of All that lives here?’”
I gather my senses, tiptoe around,
Humbled by the thought
Around me the earth greens intensely and offers itself
For all to experience and know
May we do so with care…
Sword ferns. photo by of Barb Erickson
Ahead, the trail widens
Guarded by upright tall ferns
Lush with newly, uncurled fronds
Light breaks through
Divulging trunks and fallen logs
Rife with fungi and tangled lichens
Aglow with small flowers shining through.
I follow the wagging tail to a log
Sit down on mossy cushion
Breathe in deeply
Steeped in the solitude
High above, a crow harshly calls
Somewhere below, a robin scolds back
Banana slug. photo by of Barb Erickson
At my feet, a large yellow slug
The color of dried mustard
Glides smoothly over the duff.
My companion begs to move on
More blades of grass await him
I stand and stretch, turn to go
Ahead lies a larger patch of light,
The road, and our way back
As we emerge from the dim stillness
Only two words come to mind
As I turn back to look
A whispered “THANK YOU”…
MANITOU BAY WONDERLAND
by Diane Moser
Diamonds dance
on the salty water
dressing white seagulls in jewels.
They respond with
a thank you
for making them queen.
Dipping and diving
in royal formation
a perfect blend
of courtly maneuvers
calling out to the salmon
“off with your heads.”
RAPTURE
by Diane Moser
The clear, cool
flow of water
carries me downstream.
Cedar trees along the bank
look down in envy.
Clouds smile a wish
to join my journey.
Shiny river stones
gently kissed by current
watch me pass.
A boulder, century-smooth
gently brushes my body.
I pass deep pools
where forest critters
come to drink.
Sounds blend into river
and wind tiptoes
through the forest.
Rhythm sings a tune
of tomorrow…
and tomorrow.
SPIRIT CONNECTION
by Diane Moser
I see it rise.
This beautiful creature
body slick as oil
dripping salt water;
its journey for food and survival
mirrors mine.
A thousand generations
birthed and died
to bring this moment
this connection of life.
I inhale the message.
It will crown
and smile for me,
and just for me
our secret will slip slowly under
leaving silent bubbles,
my reflection
in its eyes.
Mt. Townsend Trail #839
by Sue Hylen
Road to the trailhead
curves through
cottonwoods & alders.
1975
I traveled this route
fresh from my East Coast life
with REI backpack & boots
remembering
how steep
the trail began.
Today I am on this ridge
above meadows of pearly everlasting
lupine and goldenrod
sun on the back of my neck.
My husband hikes ahead
as we climb the switchbacks
where Olympic bluebells dangle
through rocky brown dust
where bees chant a Tibetan chorus
around the nape of my neck
like watch dogs who keep me moving.
With the quiet swish of my water bottle
my shutter clicks
my pen writes
as the curve
of this mountain trail
begins to build a poem.
A valley of trees stare back
across this Buckhorn Wilderness
as fog paints a thick cream
over Mt. Jupiter, Mt. Zion
then over the Straits of Juan de Fuca.
Through moist blindness
we begin our descent
among lichen,
thistle and fireweed.
From the weathered bark
of Douglas Fir
a gargoyle face glares
through dripping moss
as I begin to learn from tree stumps
how to cling my knees to the trail.
Beneath the silent grit
of my smile swallowing pain
my 49 year old body
slows my pace,
dictates:
This hike may last forever!
a thought I hold
as if I could hold time
like a paragraph
eternally left
in this present tense
among
wild asters
and
dragonflies.
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)
Deborah Poe is the author of several poetry collections including keep, the last will be stone too, Elements, and Our Parenthetical Ontology, as well as a novella in verse, Hélène.Her visual works — video poems and handmade books — have been exhibited throughout the US. She considers the Pacific Northwest her heart’s home and lives in Seattle on the ancestral land of the Coast Salish people.
Diane Moser lives on the Kitsap Peninsula overlooking the beautiful Olympic Mountains where a lifetime of observation is reflected in her poetry.
She feels words can connect in a time when we need to hear and understand each other. She hopes you find a sense of connection and shared experience in her poetry.
Sue Hylen, a poet and photographer, finds her images with her pen and lens in those unexpected, juxtaposed moments with her six grandchildren or while cycling around Bainbridge Island.
Sue served with the Bainbridge Island Park District office for 30 years as the Cultural Arts and Events Manager, organizing a variety of arts and cultural workshops and other community events for 30 years.
For more than 25 years, Sue participated in the Bainbridge Island Writers Workshop facilitated by Nancy Rekow, where she began to find her muse. Published in 2001, Sue’s first chapbook, “Double Exposure”, features 23 poems with 15 black and white photographs. In 2020 Sue published “Lines from My Notebooks,” a collection of 34 poems old and new. Her most recent work, “Unravelling My Life Lines,” is a full-length book of 66 poems, with new poems and favorites from her first two books.
Table of Contents, Issue #25, Autumn 2024
Nurse Stump Clan
by John F. Williams, Autumn 2024 images by John F. WilliamsStumps in foreground and background with new trees growing from them.by John F. Williams, Autumn 2024Images by John F. WilliamsA mushroom growing out of a tree.Taking a stroll through a forested city park the...
Sticky Subjects in the Intertidal
by Celeste Hankins, Autumn 2024Images by Celeste Hankins except as notedby Celeste Hankins, Autumn 2024Images by Celeste Hankins except as notedYou can listen to the text of this article using the Audio version above. narrated by Celeste HankinsI kneel in the mud and...
Shaping the Salish Sea
by Michael Melton, Autumn 2024Beavers and salmon have co-existed and co-evolved over seven million years, and they have a mutually beneficial relationship: beavers provide habitat for salmon and the salmon return nutrients to the rivers and streams. This film explores...
Nurturing Life
by Sarah Ottino, Autumn 2024images by Sarah Ottino except as notedLarge woody debris (LWD) is an important part of a healthy river ecosystem.by Sarah Ottino, Autumn 2024images by Sarah Ottino except as notedWhen we die, our bodies become the grass, and the antelope...
COPYRIGHT
Copyright SEA-Media
All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution, in whole or in part. without consent of copyright owner is strictly prohibited — except for brief quotations in critical reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright laws.
SEA-Media is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit corporation
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.