This morning I came across a Facebook post from Audubon Alaska about their Bird Poetry Corner. How had I missed this? They have had a new prompt each week in April. Now I have a prompt the last five days of National Poetry Month! Today’s poem is my response to Week Four:

Below you’ll find a list of words that relate to nature. These words are your poetry prompts this week. You can use these prompts in several different ways: You can choose a single word and build a poem around it as a topic. You can choose a handful of words (about five would be good) and use those words to kick off different lines or verses. Or you can challenge yourself to write a single poem with all of the words included in it.

tree, birds, feather, nest, droplet, moon, field, stream, forest, sunlight, energy, bloom, seed, chirp, buzz, spring, green, meadow, soar, free

There is a pond in the woods behind our house. It knows how to take care of itself, and we let it. We do try to keep a path cleared so we can walk down the hill and see what’s going on. Over the past few weeks, I’ve observed at least eight ducks living there. They inspired this poem.

A Paddling of Mallards

This spring, a paddling of mallards
has moved in on the far side of the pond.
They stay concealed, bobbing behind
a bloom of bright green pond grass.

I approach the pond on tiptoe,
careful not to step on a fallen branch
that will snap and startle them.

They sense my presence anyway.
Before I can blink,
they launch into the sky,
seeking refuge in the trees.

I sit on a rock, quiet and still,
hoping they will return.
Other birds, red-wings and sparrows,
tolerate me.
Soon, the air is filled with their song.
But the mallards stay away.

I sigh, rise, and trudge back up the hill.
I want them to come back
to their hidden nests.
I imagine feather-lined
depressions of twigs
and leaves, filled with eggs,
harbingers of hope.

Draft, © 2020, Catherine Flynn

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 25: World Penguin Day
April 24: Save the Birds
April 23: An Earth Day ABC
April 21: Nature’s Harmony
April 20: Crowns of Moss
April 19: Propagation
April 18: At the Pond
April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

 

It’s World Penguin Day! What better day for a poem about penguins? I sometimes write acrostics to gather words and ideas for topics, but today I decided that I liked this acrostic well enough to share today.

Penguins promenade over a barren landscape of ice.
Elegant in black and white, they
Never fly. Instead when it’s time to eat, they
Glide gracefully through their frigid
Underwater hunting grounds, feasting on krill.
Indulging until full, they return to rocky
Nests to lay an egg. And
So the world begins anew.

Draft © 2020, Catherine Flynn

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 24: Save the Birds
April 23: An Earth Day ABC
April 21: Nature’s Harmony
April 20: Crowns of Moss
April 19: Propagation
April 18: At the Pond
April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

                . 

Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of the first Earth Day. As sometimes happens, even in quarantine, the day got away from me. Meetings lasted longer than expected, with little time left to devote to writing a poem worthy of the occasion. And although it’s important to have a day set aside to call attention to and raise awareness about our one precious Earth, every day is Earth Day for me.

An Earth Day ABC

An atlas of the world can’t
Begin to reveal the
Complexity of connections, the
Diversity of life on
Earth.
For centuries, curious humans have
Grappled with questions, searching across
Hemispheres, seeking
Insights into our home, finding pieces of the
Jigsaw puzzle, gaining
Knowledge and
Learning the lessons
Mountains teach us. The earth
Nurtures and nourishes us. We are
Obligated to
Protect her, preserve her. Our reckless
Quest for riches is irresponsible. Actions
Ripple across the globe, casting
Shadows on life everywhere.
Today and everyday, seek to
Understand the
Vulnerability and vitality of our
Wondrous world.
eXchange hubris for humility. Change begins with
You.
Zoom in and discover nature’s abundant gifts.

Draft © 2020, Catherine Flynn

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 21: Nature’s Harmony
April 20: Crowns of Moss
April 19: Propagation
April 18: At the Pond
April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

Today’s poem is a Golden Shovel. My strike line was taken from the writings of Alexander von Humboldt, considered by many to be the father of modern environmentalism. It is fitting that the Smithsonian has mounted a exhibition about Humboldt’s impact on art, nature, and culture in the United States during this fiftieth anniversary year of Earth Day.

If you want to learn more about this amazing man, I highly recommend The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World, by Andrea Wulf.

In addition to being an intrepid explorer, von Humboldt was a prolific writer, writing more than 36 volumes. His work influenced the thinking of Thoreau, Darwin, and John Muir, among others. It seems appropriate to remember and honor him this week.

The line I chose to work from is from a letter von Humboldt wrote in 1799:

I must find out about the harmony in nature.

This poem turned into something a little more personal than I expected, but we don’t always know where we’re headed when we start out.

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 20: Crowns of Moss
April 19: Propagation
April 18: At the Pond
April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

 

Today’s poem is a Fib, or Fibonacci poem, a poem that follows the Fibonacci sequence to determine the number of words, or in this case, syllables in each line of the poem. I worked out to eight syllables, then repeated the sequence backwards, ending with a single word. The idea for today’s poem came from “Propagation,” an essay by Naomi Huffman, in this week’s New York Times Magazine. You can read more about the real begonia in the poem here.

Propagation

From
one
plant, a
begonia
cared for through the years
by grandmothers, aunts, and nieces,
nurtured cuttings sprout roots in jars
heart-shaped leaves bloom: a
new cycle of
green life
is
born.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2020

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 18: At the Pond
April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

This poem is a response to the challenge Michelle Heidenrich Barnes posed on her blog yesterday. All month, Michelle has been sharing writing tips and wisdom from Patrice Vecchione‘s new book, My Shattered, Shouting, Whispering Voice: A Guide to Writing Poetry and Speaking Your Truth. Here’s the prompt:

For this week’s challenge, I’ve selected “Into the Future: Take Yourself There Now” (Chapter 53) from Part III of My Shouting, Shattered, Whispering Voice. Patrice writes:  

Is the future a place you wish you could arrive at now? I remember feeling that way. Or maybe here and now is fine. For the length of a poem, venture into that place called future, as you imagine it; peer into its unknown terrain, and see what you find.  

As some of you may know, I have an eleven-week old granddaughter. Fortunately, I was able to visit her in February before we all had to stay home. But of course I’m anxious to see her again. Her father, my son, recently sent me a photo of a baby turtle near the pond in their yard. This poem imagines a future visit to the pond with my granddaughter.

Someday soon
I’ll take your hand
and we’ll walk to the pond.

Careful where you step!
A baby turtle, no bigger than a quarter,
is lumbering toward the pond, too.

When he arrives,
he’ll slip into the water
to forage for algae
and insects.

When we arrive,
we’ll sit on the bank
keeping our eyes peeled.
Maybe he’ll climb onto a log
to bask in the warm sun
after his meal.

Or maybe a heron will alight
on the pond’s far edge,
where the brook flows in.
You’ll grow restless
as she tiptoes on her stick-like legs,
uncurling her slender neck,
thrusting her bill
into the murky water,
aiming for a fish.

Time for lunch? you wonder.
Time for lunch, I nod.

Hand in hand,
we’ll leave the pond.
Someday soon.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2020

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 17: The Red Chair
April 16: Dear Venus
April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail

 

Today’s poem is an epistolary poem, a poem in the form of a letter. Finding topics for poems this month has never been a problem, but I seem to get bogged down in what form the poems should take. The more I played with my ideas about Venus, which has been putting on quite a show this month, it became clear that this poem should be a little love note to the evening star.

Dear Venus,

Every evening, when the sky is clear,
I scan the western sky
searching for your blazing light.
You’re never hard to find,
outshining every star.

I take each worry from my day,
seal it in a bubble,
then send them off to you.
Your murky clouds swallow
Them up, one by one,
without complaint.

Back on earth, I stand
beneath your dazzling glow
and feel lighter.

Thank you.

Love,

A friend

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2020

Previous “News From the Natural World” poems:

April 15: Listen
April 14: Ode to a Tide Pool
April 11: What Does A Bird’s Egg Know?
April 10: Clusters of Clover
April 9: Song of the Pink Moon
April 8: Jewel of the Jungle
April 5: Phantom of the Forest
April 4: To Build a Nest
April 3: Apple Cake
April 2: Specimen
April 1: Forest Snail