Welcome to Poetry Party #47!
I select an image and suggest a theme/title and invite you to respond with your poems or other reflections. Scroll down and add your responses in the comments section below. Feel free to take your poem in any direction and then post the image and invitation on your blog (if you have one) and encourage others to come join the party! (permission is granted to reprint the image if a link is provided back to this post)
Today is the Feast of St. Francis, the wonderful mystic who saw the wonder of God in all of creation. He is perhaps best known for his Canticle of the Sun where Francis expresses deep kinship with nature by regarding sun and moon, the four sacred elements, and even Death as siblings. On this day, many churches offer blessings to our companion animals as a way of honoring how integral they are to our lives. At 13-years old our rescued Weimaraner, Abbess Petunia, has been showing signs of her age. However she still offers me daily wisdom in learning how to simply be present to the truth of this moment. Part of the wisdom of creatures for me is in their sheer otherness and willingness to enter our lives with such exuberance.
I invite you for our Poetry Party this week to write an Ode to Animal Wisdom or your own Canticle of Creation!
51 Responses
We are in Egypt and I am struck by the animals used in work – they appear in the midst of Cairo traffic.
Donkey pulling so heavy a load,
palm for building,
fruit for eating,
casting not an eye to passing motor cars.
Oxen yoked together,
working for the farmer in the field,
oblivious to passing buses.
Horses carrying passengers
in tiny wooden carts,
entering traffic as daringly
as dented taxis.
Camels trotting over desert sand
and cobblestone streets,
majestically bearing your
greatful riders.
Oh animals of Egypt, you carry us,
you bear our burdens;
spirit of working animals thanksgiving for you.
DECEMBER VIEW
twice now the red fox
came briefly
to our winter yard
trotting with purpose
from the field
at the ravine’s edge
on the way to where
I suppose
the mice are
she stops to look
and sniff–then off
she goes so red
and white so quick
and proud and wild
so just-as-she-is
Barbara – This is one of my favorites and not just because I know you. There is something “Mary Oliver-ish” about it. – Pam McCauley
Today is my spiritual birthday. I did not know for many years that it was the feast day of St Francis. I believe my love of the natural world and it’s creatures has been my connection to him.
Schotzie
Came to me at three
And found a new shelter in my lap.
Every vet says she needs to lose some weight.
So do I.
When the old shelter took her in
She was skin and bones.
They kept her in the kitchen and gave her extra food
Because she needed it. She found love and food there.
And me.
Now 9 years having passed we eat organic and free range
And she has learned to cuddle more in her 12th year
She does not feel the need to be so much on her
guard as though the world of love and food will end
(we are learning this together)
Schotzie, my treasure.
the morning air
swirls alive
with song
a bird outside
my window
is pouring out
her praise
making melody
in both of
our hearts
An Ode to the Wild Ones
A deer walking
through the garden
changes it all.
The greenery becomes again
a place of wilderness,
a place less constrained.
Her presence is
a reminder to live humbly
with the unknown.
We may try to plant
predictability into our lives,
like tulips in a row.
But beyond the garden gate,
still exists a wildness,
an understanding
That our lives
are really untamed.
Open that gate,
Welcome the unexpected.
Drop your trowel for a moment.
Tulips, sacrificed to deer
Are a small price
to pay for living
with an open heart.
Animal soul
Trods up the earth-heaven mirror
Feeds always a feast
Tiny, tall, hairy, feathery, ponderous, miniscule Wonders
My Brown Eyed Dog
When you want love
You ask for it
You demand it
You give it freely
in return
You don’t over think
You don’t think at all
You just do
You just are
You just love
Thanks for the opportunity to share this remembrance of a dear pet.
Requiem for a Cat
Shadows gathered
when you arrived; the sun
closed her golden eye.
A tabby, old and deaf, patches
of your gray coat
had worn away.
A white dish, a bit
of fish — you purred
gratitude and offered
bony-ribcage ankle rubs.
Each day held some small
joy, a sun-warmed spot
in which to lie, a bug
to tease along the path.
We miss your early morning
muster –
An empty saucer
a door between you
and the dawn.
We marveled at your courage
in the drudgery of age;
and marvel now at grace
or fate directing you to us.