Barbara Spring: 5 Poems
FLOWERS | WORDLESS SONG |
| BONE SOUNDS | RADIAL
Spring is a travel writer, a poet and a painter. She has written
a book, The Dynamic Great Lakes, soon to
be published. Her poems have appeared widely in print and on the
web. She has taught writing and Liberal Studies at Grand Valley
State University, and is presently concentrating on traveling,
writing and painting. Barbara Spring's poems reflect her appreciation
of the whole and flowing nature of life. She has been active in
the environmental movement since the '60's. Her articles and poems
have appeared in Michigan Magazine, The Grand
Rapids Press, The Muskegon Chronicle, The Grand Valley
Review, Field and Stream, Art/Life, The I-94 Project and
The Women's Edition among others.
Some of her articles have been published on the web. She has taught
in the Grand Haven Public Schools, and at Grand Valley State University.
She has read her poems on public radio and at various literary
events. She has worked with such poets as Robert Bly, Nancy Willard,
the late William Stafford, and N. Scott Momaday.
Please take these flowers I've never picked:
blue lupin from open meadows,
harebells from clefts of fractured rock,
violets in tufts from sun dappled woods,
rue anemone in umbels--
blue and white to mirror sky.
I leave them rooted to acid soil,
Know these are my sky blue wishes.
I would give to you
but never will.
into a still woodland lake.
Sun burns mist away.
All around us
turn their heads
Breaking our reflection,
a water moccasin weaves
his wordless song on water.
See him sink
below our understanding
Through summer's first leaves
a mourning doves soft notes
brocade shrill fog horn hoots.
Song birds chant matins,
sweet mathematical spires of song.
I wake to praise of mourning doves on the wing.
They whirr the air
They've hidden their young
in a twiggy nest on a ledge somewhere.
Orioles dangle their hanging basket
amidst a leafy tangle over the sidewalk
it sways with each breeze.
Unaware of orange miracles in mid air,
people stroll below it.
Song sparrows peek in our window
pecking at phantom assailants.
Robins carry fat green worms into the hedge.
Purple martins twitter, recalling
summer fairs with birds on strings
for children to spin in giddy circles.
Of one mind, one hundred herring gulls rise
from the sand, into dazzled air, sky dance,
wind ride, descend to scoop silver flashes
from slow, rolling waves.
Make my left thigh bone a flute--
punch holes for fingers and lips.
Make my skull a drum--
beat on the bone with sticks.
Of my jointed fingerbones,
so breezes click
outside your bedroom window.
To humor the wave length unwinding me,
make the sound no bell tolls
no wood thrush knows
no human tongue tells.
Radial lines, intersect, chance meetings
Patterns run from a still center
Harmonies, lines, circles, ripple
A stone thrown in a still pool
Endless concentric circles
Sound waves speed
Through the universe
Sun blesses all
© 2000 by Barbara Spring. All rights reserved.