In the Baja

In the Baja

 Near shore I am

eye to eye with the leafy sea dragon

in an obsidian sea.

Out in the deep

marlin rise to bask

in a cradle of waves—

rare periwinkle marlin.

Transparent newborns—lobsters and crab

wobble off to hide in the reefs.

Labyrinthine sea reefs

spikes, claws, scales in malachite seas—

multicolored seas with nimble silver fish

that elude tang, barracuda and sharks.

Leviathons play in salt, spray

fountains then sound

in the deep majesty.

Their sonorous songs

and bird like beeps enter bones of

sailors asleep.

Making a Poem It takes a great deal of inner work to make a poem. It may start with a sudden understanding of a dream, of a color or symbol. It may take years to gain an insight that your unconscious already understands. Making a poem makes the insight conscious. What was in darkness it brought into the light so it can be seen. Barbara Spring

Returning Home

Salmon leaping the dam at Ludington, MI

Basic Instincts

Goslings follow the leader—
waddling after an imprint.


Veed geese fly home
the arctic tern,
the hummingbird,
and bright eyed warblers
fly to their tropical havens.
Lake trout swirl at river mouths
then race upstream.
American eels return from the sea
to freshwater streams.


Undersea
lobsters march in single file—
they know exactly where


they are going.
And we humans also know
where we are going


God’s green imprint is
upon our hearts. 
               
 --Barbara Spring

Excerpted from my book: Sophia's Lost and Found: Poems of Above and Below