Caring For Mother Earth

Last week I participated in Earth Fest in Kanab, Utah. I played violin with The Symphony of the Canyons. The event is trying to bring awareness to the dire need for ALL OF US to honor and preserve our environment.

This marvelous woman dances with the environment
TO SAVE IT (Maida Withers,age 73)


This man is using all his savings, hoping to bring awareness through the arts to 
SAVE OUR PLANET

(Hans Ehrbar)

James Westwater brings awareness to the environment through photochoreography.

This man is a conductor and violist who takes community orchestras and gets the heart and soul out of whatever their level of playing is.

This is Peggy Robinson, the daughter of the woman who put me up in her house. This poem was on the wall and I love it for many reasons, but on this trip it brought back to me how much we owe to those who paved the way for us. The least we can do is preserve the land and the environment for ourselves and generations to come.

I am of strong descent

I know

They whisper in my dreams

And I hear their courage

In my own voice

I am of strong descent

I know

I know

About the great

And the great great grandmothers

Who went hungry

So their children could eat.

Who put their lives into the land

And their dreams into their children

And when the time came,

Put those dreams on a boat to a foreign land

So that those they loved could live better

I know

About my own grandmother

Who nursed men to health in World War II

Who raised children against the kansas corn

And watched her own setting sun,

Battling cancer with the courage of a soldier

Leaving her children with a Legacy of patience

I know

About my own mother

Whose whispers are the strongest

Who taught me quietly

How to be who I am

Who told me I was more than this

When I needed that

And who said so softly

"Believe"

I am of strong descent

I know

And tonight in my dreams

When they whisper

I will whisper back

"I will not disappoint you"

I am of strong descent

I know

picture by Lee Teter

Clouds

As the sky holds clouds,
so must we
carry sadness

with ineffable grace.

© 2010 by Kathryn Feigal. All rights reserved. 

(to read more offerings about Grace, visit Bridget Chumbley's blog here: click link

Collaborative Comment Poem

Poetry moving forward
gets the heart thumping
in a flari maravillosa tea party.


Poetic kindred spirits
and politicians manage
to throw out a challenge.
They tell us the way it came
about is what we wanted
all along.


The scrim is covering
a once apron,
a time
when wizardly candidates
were poets 
able to gift us and
tie perfect strings 
to our hearts.

Dave King said...politicians manage

Helen said...able to gift us   


     Eryl Shields said...scrim is

Vicky said...poetic kindred spirits

Leslie said..flari tea party, poetry moving forward

Collaberative Short Poem

One Moose Trumps Seven Deer


Backlit on the apron of the forest,
the scrim of daylight shadows fading,
the mushrooms snore, the ferns curl,
all but the meadow sleeps.

(Title by Jan. 1st 2 lines, Kass. Last 2 lines Sherry. Be careful. What you say in comments, may turn up in a poem)

NEWS! - Niece, Elaine Bradley and Neon Trees On Jay Leno, Friday

WATCH IT!

Happy Mother's Day

Growing up, I always thought I had the most beautiful mother. As pretty as a movie star.

She read us stories ALL THE TIME,

and took us to fun places.

She has always had a wonderful sense of fun,
and is full of fun phrases - like:
"Let's whistle and start over."
"I'm about to have a shizacal fit."
"I can't place his face, but his breath smells familiar."

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MOM
Love, Kass

Spring was late: I saw its first greening

Every time I go to my mountain home after the thaw, I end up taking the same picture from the upper deck...

...and the same picture from the top of the hill -

I keep hoping to see the fairies that live in this hollowed-out burl -

...and when I'm out walking with granddog, Lola, I always try to see what she's seeing -

I'm always shocked and delighted when we run into wildlife. Sherry posted about seeing 7 deer and said, "The earth as we know it stopped spinning. No one would believe me about Time stopping to sit down in my driveway and saying 'Sherry, go ahead and soak up the moment.'" This is how I felt at the sight of the moose; how I feel when I see life asserting itself through matted-down layers of leaves. It seems like a revolutionary miracle every spring.

The Arch of the Year


High summer's sun raked and cratered the earth
Disinterested, implacable
As you were implacable.


Early frost and some wind bent and stripped the trees
You did not could not bend.


Snow bandaged the hill
But not the sage
And enfolded in its soft slight embrace
All your time and times.


Spring was late: I saw its first greening
I know you smelt the jasmine but did not see the rose
I saw the rose but not the hawthorn.
You did not could not wait for summer.


We waited
And are parched.


Gwendolen Gittens, 1990 (age 67)