Month: May 2020

5.9.17
(61/43)

goldfinches before the trail. white crowned sparrow. rosebreasted grosbeaks. orchard oriole singing. redwings. cowbirds. cardinal. tree swallows. coyote pup! gangly. chilly. little flock of song sparrows. little flock of white-crowned sparrows. robins. is a green-gray day. spring flowers celebrate the wet. peepers.
the coyote’s growing into his feet disappears over a low hill to hide and watch.
we do not sing to soothe,
but to expose what seethes inside the frayed network
to settle in the bone and Become.
How we are incapable of premeditation,
field sparrows. baltimore oriole.
how silence seems a selfish choice.
i hope you were not worried.
i’ve been expecting the worst.
clockwatchers. mapgazers. preoccupation. preoccupation.
and i love this constant surprise.
‘you’ll be careful not to hide. i’ll be careful not to seek’
bluebird. meadowlark. everything singing. song sparrows and white-crowned again. thrasher. catbird. the air overwhelming sweet. and now dozens of white-crowned sparrows. cardinals. goldfinches. bluejay. baltimore oriole. rosebreasted grosbeak. field sparrows.
bobolinks!
scruffy coopers hawk. tree sparrows. could use some reassurance. will have to settle for muddy feet. 3 cormorants. big blue heron. palm warblers and bluebirds follow in a friendly-feeling way. walk into the woods for a pitstop and find lily of the valley. yellowrumped warblers. red trillium still. wild geranium. mayapples starting to open. big white trillium still going.
there is something i want to be true.
but i never will know it is,
will i?
still,
whether finite or not,
it is nice, for a moment,
to be embodied.

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about fieldnotes

fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)

Chrysalising

What was that?
I couldn’t quite catch it ‘midst my distraction.
Was it?
Seemed like hope.

I make no secret of how I am to be found.
But there’s none to find.

Tally up each stronger step.
Here comes the sun,
nectar still to sip.

And getting there is easier than you might think.
Don’t reach.
Let silence be silence,
come to fill us up again.

Someday we’ll wake
to inhabit
a new unknown.

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5.5.17
(60/42)

mourning cloak. song sparrow. redwings. tree swallows. robins. redtail hawk. peepers. cardinals. blue heron. bluebird. a ridiculously gorgeous day. goldfinches. brown thrasher. cowbird. hear a meadowlark and bobolink but can’t see them. too many distracting redwings and swallows. aha! here’s the meadowlark anyway. fox sparrow. field sparrows. friendly. blue heron. couple hawks playing in the wind. bluebird. kingbird. red admiral. the mayapples have mayapples. violets and red trillium. wild geranium. ‘one night the howlin dog cries out lonely life.’ canada geese. cormorants.

Notes:
Quote 1: (howlin dog): Edie Brickell & New Bohemians / ‘This Eye’ on Ghost of a Dog (1990)

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about fieldnotes

fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)

Our Green Music

Waiting for this —
your healing sun —
I slipped through the door
and out into a gray wind,
but it was still just a ghost in the clouds.

It was 20 years of badluck birthday cake and blind paralysis.

We get too old and see,
but we can still swap our hands to warm them.

Mourning dove follows,
curious.
and the green is best when it’s growing into itself,
our floods not quite clockwork.

Everything that means something
means something else
and more.
We bury our motives —
bare hands in fat black dirt,
cultivated hymns,
mad chants —
when all we want is to be warm.

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5.4.17
(53/44)

blue herons circling in. spring peeper. redtail hawk. redwings. goldfinches. tree swallows. barn swallow. white egret. the shyest sparrows. baby geese in the inlet. very busy fox sparrow. 2 peepers where the water is high. song sparrow. catbird. meadowlark. goldfinches are busy. oh! a bobolink! (a favorite favorite) cowbirds. bluejay. towhee. field sparrows. walnuts and some of the little spindly oaks starting to leaf out. more cowbirds. chipping sparrow. buzzy. cormorant. white egret. skunk cabbage starting to get big. marsh marigold is done. hundreds of swallows over the river. toadshade. valerian. wild geranium. large-flowered trillium. all the violets.

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about fieldnotes

fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)