Natură – Writer Between Worlds

Abandon

We had roots. Our roots had roots. Our roots’ roots had roots, but then fall came and our leaves began to fall, one by one to the ground, crackling dry. And in the soil they made we were rooted. But the light called to our children and to our children’s children. They clambered to the…
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Anotimpul tăcerii

Septembrie. Băncile tac. Cu ochii ațintiți înainte, oamenii au evadat din birouri și iau prânzul în parc. Răsfirat pe alei, pietrișul e alb. Inflorescențe întârziate îneacă cerul în parfum dulceag. Verdele frunzelor a obosit, a devenit întunecat, îmbibat de prea multe amurguri. Pauza de prânz.Mâinile caută guridoritoare de hrană.Gurile mestecă reflex. Privirile au rămas atârnate…
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Toamna (haiku)

Înflăcărarea se stinge în râuri moi de pace mută.
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No photos

Crows on a dying treetop, scattered on its bare branches before taking flight. Crickets in grass, loud, and reeds slowly slanting below blue mountains, crimson suns and clouds like cotton of the purest white. I take no photos and no hostages from this: I simply watch how the marvels explode on an organic retina that…
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Și de sus ninge cu pene

Fă-mă arbore, îi șoptesc nucului, cu trupul cald lipit de trunchiul lui rece și aspru, să întind brațe interminabile către cer, din care să îmi crească alte brațe și tot așa, să adun cu ele lumina – mai multă! mai multă! – să mă hrănesc cu ea, să văd de sus lumea cum treceprin timp…
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On Leaving My Walled Garden

I hugged each tree trunk one by one, caressed each stalk, each stem, each textured leaf, each evanescent petal that now is a fresh-scented pink and by dawn, sallow, already reeks of wilted tissue and, with eyes closed,I breathed. I breathed and I touched. I mapped bark creases and crevasses, patterns of smoothness and ridges,…
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Wild geese (haiku)

the sky stitched up by southward wings, its low-hanging belly exhaling.
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As mourning follows night*

back home I sleep with my ears unplugged the windows flung wide open into the guzzling night I remain watchful here, in the places my people have – one by one –trickled into the fatty earth I dive into the holes they left – deep dark enticing pools of fresh darkness – I eavesdrop: the…
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Today

be quiet with me after the rain in the rejuvenated world count all the fallen petals bask in the timorous sun the bulbous wet sweetness of soon-to-be-fruit the snail’s past trailing behind him like a wedding gown kneel down, put your good ear to the ground be silent listen to the breathing the throbbing this…
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Have you?

Have you completed the sacraments of life? Have you bowed to the April sunrise? Have you worshipped the brightness and the honeyed light dripping on the fresh leaves? Have you helped a blind mole across the gravel road and kept it safe from the fury of bikers? Have you touched bark or beetle and gladly…
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Springtide

Heat. April heat. Deep, penetrating. This afterwinter sky – unfamiliar, molten, aglow – splurges on timid leaves, permeates clothes,and burrows into skin. Out by the river I am sitting on a log. The gulls have just taken off, shrieking, treading water, flapping their wings against the dormant, mirror-cold, reflected images of trees. Seconds later, suspended,…
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Quote of the day

“A century ago, the physical environment was for most of humanity that of the natural world, with its rhythms and cycles, its organic, ever-growing and ever-changing interdependent life, a world to which it seemed intuitively obvious that we belong; now it has been replaced for many by an unyielding, inert, confrontational environment of non-living surfaces,…
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Category: Natură