A Mormon literary backcountry where words and place come together.

 

 

 

 

Archive for the 'animal encounters' Category

winter’s breath by Linda Crate

Monday, January 30th, 2012

I watched the world around me;
winter swallowed me in snow —
the skies were somber and grey.
Only a cardinal pierced the scene
of melancholy waves that washed
their newness upon the earth with
the promise of renewed hope.  As
the pains of yesterday were taken
from the land in ivory tears, I was
poured into chalices of reflection.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Linda Crate is a Pennsylvanian [...]

Canadian Shield by Bradley McIlwain

Tuesday, October 18th, 2011

I keep the totem in my pocket
as a harp song sung with a
steady bear paw, wedged
between your photograph
and an eagle feather. Before
we parted, you whispered it
would serve me well on rainy
days when my road was too
much to stand on. This morning
I pulled the car to the shoulder
to watch an osprey hover with
a cold sun. I [...]

Z is for zoology (a pop quiz you have to plan for) by Professor Percival P. Pennywhistle

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

This is a hunt for natural treasures, rare and beautiful creatures, not-so-rare and fairly ugly creatures, and some new ways of saying familiar things. It is a search for the poetry of life, the magic of the great wide world. It is also a search for odors. Enjoy.
You will need the following to complete the [...]

How to free a hummingbird from a skylight

Monday, July 11th, 2011

Like most folks, my husband, kids, and I greet spring’s arrival with relief.  The relaxing of winter’s grip, the first crack of color between sepals clutching flower buds, the sun’s liberating warmth all lighten the load my family balances gingerly as we carry it through winter’s dimly-lit cellars.  But as daylight’s gold, pink or orange [...]

Bobcat by Steven L. Peck

Friday, April 29th, 2011

When the bobcat
flashed angrily through
the headlights
of Alan’s famous
Mustang,
we sliced the
silence to a primitive
stop and wild
eyed,
grabbed the
.22s resting cold and
anxious on
the back seat
Like
hunting hawks
dove
from the car
wings folded
The canyon echoed the crack
crack, crack as we fired
at shadows
We didn’t know then,
the cat
could
have cured us
and the quiet Spring night
soothed
our burning
________________________________________________________________
To read more of Steve’s poetry and see his bio, [...]

Robin by Barry Carter

Thursday, April 21st, 2011

A robin arrived early spring with
snow on his breast and the
moon in his eyes heavier
than the moon in the sky.
He took his rest on my
gaunt apple tree and
the robin’s winter melody
began to haunt me, he
sang every day for twelve
days and on each day
an apple grew. I watched
him from the window.
The moon in my eyes
escaped with [...]

Late Spring Ringmaster by Mary Belardi Erickson

Monday, April 18th, 2011

A lone pelican lands on the slough
beside the barn–
a gawkish bird gliding
onto the murky water,
a flap and beating of wings–
then, a hump of white feathers suspended,
the long orange bill tucked
against his chest.
Pelicans usually stay in large groups
like a carnival of white and orange,
a noisy bunch on parade
content with no less than a feast.
Their feats can [...]

Dinosaur Water by Harlow S. Clark

Friday, April 15th, 2011

We drink the same water the dinosaurs drank
–News Item
That one up there, towards the top, Camarasaurus
That skull provided the first evidence dinosaurs could hear
We found a complete set of ear bones
–David Whitman, Dinosaur National Monument, quarry building
The climate was much like it is today, he said
I imagine them by the river
Eating grass and deciduous leaves, [...]

Owl by Barry Carter

Thursday, April 14th, 2011

An owl in spring smuggles moonlight
within the cowl of his
flight, sits on my roof,
replays his haunts from
the night before. Dreams
and I part, panels on
the roof drink sunlight,
the owl collects his cache
of sunlight that will
fire the flight of
his dreaming incarnation.
Will he dream of me in a
future reverie? That night,
I dream in silver and gold
I have a [...]

Deer in the City by Patricia Karamesines

Friday, April 8th, 2011

When winter beats its broad path
across fields, kneeling the weed
and setting, too, over sage and oak,
deep white pavement;
after wasps and beetles
have borne off, crumb by crumb,
rusted plum and apple pulp
so far beyond the last gather
the ground where they fell
no longer smells of cider;
when there is light instead of leaf
on the branch, star instead of pear,
deer [...]