Poems




_________________________________________________



            A Tear in the Web

            The world is tilting over the edge.
            We’ve torn the web of fibers 
                  that holds the world together 
                          and upset its delicate balance.
            The coral reefs have answered us.
                  The poles have answered us.
                         The winds over the seas are answering us.
            Drought makes its insidious creep 
            across the American West. 
            Monster fires burn out of control,
            followed by flash floods, 
                    and the oceans eat the edges of continents.

            Earth sheds its tears, 
            but it has no fear of us.
                    It knows it will outlast us.
            It will heal its wounds in its own way in the end.
            It’s only warning us now,
            but ultimately it will avenge the insults 
                  and impose a new balance of its own making, 
                              slow and relentless, 
            without mercy for who is in the way.
            Can you hear the thunder? It’s closer than it was . . .

                  Earth and life will survive –
            as microbes trade DNA 
            to mutate daily, adapt, and thrive.
            Insects and animals and plants will evolve,
            and a new order will organically emerge.
                          We may not be invited to the party.

            BN




            Bosque Spring

            It’s late April and warm, 
            but in the Bosque 
            curling up against the Rio Grande
            the trees are still bare, 
            only a small branch here and there
            sprouting any leaves at all.
            Disappointed, I came down here 
            hoping for evidence of Spring’s jubilant arrival.

            Two days later I come back
            and every cottonwood wears a bright green crown!
            The whole forest is a carnival, 
            alive and exuberant in the sun’s rays 
            set off by an electric blue sky, 
            and I’m no longer holding my breath for Spring.

            BN




           Drought

           The wind complains today 
            that it is thirsty.
            It passes over
            with nothing to offer us,
            searching for a drink 
            somewhere to the east.

            BN



            Wet Dust

            The acrid odor of wet dust
            rises all around me
            as rain begins to kiss ground 
            that has not been moist
            for two months.
            The sleeping desert opens an eye.

            BN



            Places I Haven’t Been Before

            A hunter surveys the valley from the cliff above, 
            seeing the course of a stream
            revealed by a winding strip of cottonwoods,
            hunting for game to feed his family.

                   It’s fifteen thousand years ago in North America.
            He’s an explorer, always moving on
            to look for new territory 
            with abundant game and fruits of the land.
            His people survived  
                          by always being ready to move on, 
            coming down the coast over millennia
            to bypass the glacier-covered north
            until coastal green spread inland, 
            when they moved upriver
            until there was no need to go by boat. 
            But they keep moving, now on land, because moving 
            is what has brought them what they sought.
                      Now it’s their habit and way of life.

            On TV a San Carlos Apache’s words 
                          ring a bell somewhere inside me
            as he tells how he surveys a valley 
            from a vantage point on a rock outcrop,
                      always looking for 
              what’s in the valley and over the next ridge,
            and when he reaches it, 
            what’s over the ridge after that.

            He’s speaking for me, echoing 
            the yearning I always feel to go farther  
            when exploring territory I haven’t seen before.
            It’s something in my bones.
            Just a little farther – I don’t want to stop yet.
            And I always want to go places I haven’t been before.

            There are few trails I can still hike 
            that I haven’t traveled, but I keep looking –
            surprised at finding two new trails this month. 
            Hiking mostly in the foothills and the Bosque now,
                 I also walk trails of the mind I haven’t traveled yet as well.
                              I want to know, to discover things
                        and understand what I haven’t understood before. 
            It’s like feasting at a banquet where 
            the food never runs out and I never get my fill.

            I want to explore the mental and emotional 
                      white places on the map of my interior landscape, 
            and territory of the mind and heart
            that others have explored and written of,
                    both vaster than I can even imagine.

            BN