A Galapagos Lad

A Galapagos Lad

Rafael whistles a vermilion flycatcher to us

ascending green branch by green branch.

Rafael grew up on these strange islands

learned the language of its birds

and of undersea creatures.

He speaks to sea lions

imitates their comical walk

swims in their wake.

He knows the caves of sharks—

The Galapagos lad inhabits

 These wild volcanic wastes

Rafael at home in this place.

Poems of Mine

A Galapagos Lad

Rafael whistles a vermilion flycatcher to us

bright scarlet male

ascending green branch by green branch.

Rafael grew up on these strange islands

learned the language of its birds

and of undersea creatures.

He speaks to sea lions

imitates their comical walk

swims in their wake.

He knows the caves of sharks—

The Galapagos lad inhabits

 These wild volcanic wastes

Rafael at home in this wild place.

       

                 

Air Earth Fire Water

A misty drizzle falls over Puget Sound—

enters every living thing

thimble berries I pick from the roadside—

berries red, soft, tender

stain my fingers red

flood my tongue with tang.

Water seeps into leaves, grass, me.

I’m as damp as the black crenulated slug

crossing the forest path with deliberate gravity.

Under a lush green cedar bough I lean

on its stout rough trunk—

I feel the qi in flowing through every living thing

and in water, minerals, earth and from

sun cupped golden marsh marigolds.

A sweetness breathes from pink rose hedges,

chicory stands sentinel for my blue longings.

Ferns breathe green ideas

From graceful filigrees.

Mist falls on an unseen singer haunting

the forest canopy with an unearthly scales of notes.

Imbued, baptized networks of roots under

my boots know I am here—the news

travels all the way down to the salty Sound.

Octopus, seals, sea otters hear the news.

They know my love of them and the gray whale

I greeted in the Baja last winter breaches

Its great body as it looks shoreward.

We are all joined in this joy.       

  

 Ancient Lyres

Solar winds tuned ancient lyres—

Bright fires burned in the eyes of wolves

As their tremolos entered hidden waters

Where little brown bats dipped over secret lakes.

Lunar mists in a minor key hid them all from sight.

I thought I heard those ancient lyres

As I wandered the woods last night.

Butterfly Lovely

Buckeyes, red admirals,

 Black swallowtails

And orange monarchs

Fan their wings

Then float away.

Dragonflies

With compound eyes

Breeze by—

Sunny day

Honey bees

 Bumble bees

Buzz In yellow poppies. 

Galapagos Lad

Galapagos Lad

Rafael whistles a vermilion flycatcher to us

bright scarlet male

ascending green branch by green branch.

Rafael grew up on these strange islands

learned the language of its birds

and of undersea creatures.

He speaks to sea lions

imitates their comical walk

swims in their wake.

He knows the caves of sharks—

the Galapagos lad inhabits

these wild volcanic wastes.

                                 --Barbara Spring

The Wilderness Within by Barbara Spring

Bear Woman
The grizzly terrified us at first—
pacing the driveway with her three cubs,
battering at our front door.
She terrifies you now;
you can see her in my eyes.
So I’ve trained her as Gypsies do:
I beat a tambourine,
force her to walk on hot embers.
She rises,
lifts one hind foot,
then the other.
She dances to my tambourine.

                                     ---excerpt from

The Wilderness Within

This book is available at Amazon.com, bn.com, The Bookman in Grand Haven and many other stores

 

Boobies

We have encountered boobies twice: on Little Cayman Island and on the Galapagos Islands.

On Little Cayman we could walk to the booby hatch.  This was the place where the boobies had a commune of sorts.  They were nesting in trees that stood in brackish water and they brought back fish they had caught in the sea in for their young.  We watched from shore as they dived into the sea and brought up fish.  They stored them in their gullets to bring back to their nests and if they were lucky they would not be attacked by the man of war or frigate birds that forced them to cough up their catch.  It was on Little Cayman that I learned the real meanings of “boobie hatch” and “cough it up” and the meaning of booby.

The same sort of thing was happening on the Galapagos Islands only a different sort of booby had evolved in these islands.  They had blue feet.  And we were fortunate to arrive during mating season.  The male would do a dance to impress the female lifting his beautiful blue feet to impress her.  This was so amazing that many years later I have made some watercolors of this event.

Shortly after we came home from the Galapagos, someone commissioned a series of Galapagos poems for a website that is no longer available so I have these in my book, The Wilderness Within.

A Galapagos Lad

Galapagos Lad

Rafael whistles a vermilion flycatcher to us

bright scarlet male

ascending green branch by green branch.

Rafael grew up on these strange islands

learned the language of its birds

and of undersea creatures.

He speaks to sea lions

imitates their comical walk

swims in their wake.

He knows the caves of sharks--
the native Galapagos lad inhabits

these wild volcanic wastes.

                                 Galapagos Islands

Jack Ridl at Ox-Bow, Poetry and The Galapagos

I have studied with Jack Ridl at Ox-Bow an art colony near Saugatuk, Michigan.  It was enjoyable writing under a canopy and then wandering the sand dunes.  

Other poems I have written were inspired by visiting the Galapagos Islands.  

I have encountered boobies twice: on Little Cayman Island and on the Galapagos Islands.

On Little Cayman we could walk to the booby hatch.  This was the place where the boobies had a commune of sorts.  They were nesting in trees that stood in brackish water and they brought back fish they had caught in the sea in for their young.  We watched from shore as they dived into the sea and brought up fish.  They stored them in their gullets to bring back to their nests and if they were lucky they would not be attacked by the man of war or frigate birds that forced them to cough up their catch.  It was on Little Cayman that I learned the real meanings of “boobie hatch” and “cough it up” and the meaning of booby.

The same sort of thing was happening on the Galapagos Islands only a different sort of booby had evolved in these islands.  They had blue feet.  And we were fortunate to arrive during mating season.  The male would do a dance to impress the female lifting his beautiful blue feet to impress her.  This was so amazing that many years later I have made some watercolors of this event.

Shortly after we came home from the Galapagos, someone commissioned a series of Galapagos poems for a website that is no longer available so I have these in my book, The Wilderness Within.

The Wilderness Within and my other poetry books, Between Sweetwater and Sand and Sophia's Lost and Found are found on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and many other websites.

Blue Footed Boobies

We have encountered boobies twice: on Little Cayman Island and on the Galapagos Islands.

On Little Cayman we could walk to the booby hatch.  This was the place where the boobies had a commune of sorts.  They were nesting in trees that stood in brackish water and they brought back fish they had caught in the sea in for their young.  We watched from shore as they dived into the sea and brought up fish.  They stored them in their gullets to bring back to their nests and if they were lucky they would not be attacked by the man of war or frigate birds that forced them to cough up their catch.  It was on Little Cayman that I learned the real meanings of “boobie hatch” and “cough it up” and the meaning of booby.

The same sort of thing was happening on the Galapagos Islands only a different sort of booby had evolved in these islands.  They had blue feet.  And we were fortunate to arrive during mating season.  The male would do a dance to impress the female lifting his beautiful blue feet to impress her.  This was so amazing that many years later I have made some watercolors of this event.

Shortly after we came home from the Galapagos, someone commissioned a series of Galapagos poems for a website that is no longer available so I have these in my book, The Wilderness Within.