Wild Poems2023-02-22T11:23:52-06:00

Wild Poems

What does it mean to pray?

What does it mean to pray?

What does it mean to pray?
Gathered together or on our own?
For some, it’s a direct line to a creator.
For others, it’s more of a universe thing,
tapping into a connection, say, with the natural world and ‘sending’ it.
For still others, it’s about focused energy and light—
beaming […]

By |March 9, 2022|Categories: Wild Poems|

A Winter Walk

A Winter Walk

Ah, Winter, you often maligned
sometimes scowled at beauty of a season.

I get it. If people are only shoveling
or driving upon slippery roads,
some of your shine can wear off pretty quickly.

Dear reader,
if you are someone lacking either the gear or the gumption
to go outside in subzero temps,
allow me to elaborate […]

By |January 31, 2022|Categories: Wild Poems|

Seeing Solstice

There is a pause now
this quiet Solstice time
before light slowly lengthens.

The temptation?
To count the days.
To hold our breath
until daylight stretches into evening
and early morning forces back the darkness.

What a relief it will be
these light-starved eyes
to see again
no longer fumbling in darkness.

Still,
somewhere deep inside
past resistance and reason
you know this darkness, too, […]

By |December 15, 2021|Categories: Wild Poems|

For All

Thanksgiving greetings to all of you from The Wild Institute.  As I considered posting the annual Thanksgiving Wild Thought, I found myself pausing, not quite able to just post it as we enter into our 2nd Thanksgiving with Covid19 still so prevalently in our midst.

My wish for […]

By |November 22, 2021|Categories: Wild Poems|

Breathing Fire

The maples steal my breath
with glowing leaves the colors of fire.
Likewise the birch
golden against deep blue sky.

Walk among them now
on a crisp sunny day.
Inhale the shades of red, yellow, and orange
until, in your exhale, you could almost breathe fire
from the glory of the colors and scents of autumn.

We could be […]

By |November 2, 2021|Categories: Wild Poems|

Re-Wilding

“Hope is the thing with feathers,”
so says Emily Dickinson.

“When despair for the world grows in me
I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and
I come into the peace of wild things.”
Borrowed, of course, from Wendell Berry.

When we need propping up
after, or maybe […]

By |September 22, 2021|Categories: Wild Poems|
Go to Top