Three Poems of the Earth
In honor of National Poetry Month, Ring Around the Basin offers three poems that celebrate how I have interacted with the natural world.
photographer unknown
One of my favorite classes in college was my geology class. I drew a great instructor from the grad student pool who obviously loved his work. This poem attempts to portray what it was like to go on a class field trip with this guy. We were very lucky, but I wonder how many of us realized that at the time.           Â
Geology 101
"There's a lot going on here!"
His arms open wide to embrace
The landscape. Alluvial fans trim
The mountains like ruffles on a hem.
A glacial moraine thrusts out
its long mound of granite
scrubbed from a U-shaped valley.
Then he points to a nearby cliff.
"These sediments here show where
A river deposited debris in layers
Over millions of years."
He dives in closer and traces
Bands of sorted stones and sand
Over a ribbon of iron the color of rust.
"See how the strata bend?
Pressure causes that uplift."
His excitement grows
With orgasmic delight
As he names Precambrian fossils
Embedded in a streak of limestone.
"At one time, the ocean flooded
This whole state. Look, you can see
The waterline up on the hillside."
Turning around, he gasps.
"And that's volcanic activity over there.
You can see the layer of ash."
Students around him fidget
Hiding in their notepads.
Earth is just too static
For their time frame that measures
From the day they were born.
Ancient history is irrelevant
As they wade through freshman minutia.
"There's still volcanism going on here.
That's why steam always vents from the rocks."
When he finally notices their ennui,
He pulls himself to his full height
And suggests their next assignment.
"We might even test the waters
at the hot springs tonight."
Suddenly, he spots
a spark of interest
In one of the boys' eyes.
photograph by A. Braiden
Meanwhile, during a visit to the Highway of the Giants in northern California …
Hush
The giants stand in ageless silence
Their breath so still as to mimic death
Yet they live in mossy groves
Catching the fog that drips in misty showers
Ferns cluster around their feet
Like mendicants
Feeding upon the redolent decay
I stand upon the spongy duff
Of needles shed over a thousand years
Expecting some Jurassic creature to emerge
Blood thrums behind my ears
The chatter of my brain calms
So that I may listen to Eternity
Speak Its name and tell Its story.
And finally, this poem suddenly popped into my head to share in this post, and no wonder. I posted it to Ring Around the Basin exactly one year ago on April 14, 2023. Serendipity strikes again!
Burnt Cabin Summit
Where the earth flattens
In a neat little square
A cabin once stood, no trace
But a few bits of rust
Mysteries of what they were
A mule shoe?
A tin can?
All else lost in fire.
* * *
Where the earth slopes
Wild onions pierce the sand
Remnants amid sage
That undulates in waves
Toward the far range
Purple mauve
Rosy alpenglow
Depending on the light
Filters through dust
Kicked up by mustangs
Antelope and deer.
* * *
Where the roads cross
Leading to Austin
Middlegate Gabbs
A cabin once stood
For what purpose?
Stage stop?
Pioneer farm?
Hunter's shack?
Ghostly whispers tell
No tales upon the wind.
It's more intriguing
To wonder.
" ...their time frame that measures From the day they were born. Ancient history is irrelevant." Oh yes, ho hum. I loved the spark of interest at the end. He says,"Now you're talking!"
" ,,,Ghostly whispers tell No tales upon the wind." Lovely, Sue.I feel as if I walked through both settings with you.
These are a lovely series, Sue. Thank you for celebrating National Poetry Month with them.