The Nature of Things

I try to read at least one poem each day, generally picking at random, and occasionally, that randomness leads me to something that is absolutely perfect. Like this poem written by a poet I'd never heard of but who might have had me in mind when she wrote this. See if it resonates with you, too. Ode to Aging Bodies by Jan Mandell Aging bodies wake to blue veins that pop up and travel like river tributaries over paper thin skin pocked with freckles, tags and blotches that look like unidentified sections of abstract art Aging bodies Rise up to the chatter and  creaking sounds of thin, porous bone that feel like cheap metal pipes refitting poorly into their stubborn mates Waking up the aging body is familiar like an attempt to turn over the frozen engine of a used car left out overnight in a below zero day in the dead of Minnesota winter   The ache and noise of an aging body is like a constant companion, a highly extroverted friend  who simply won’t shut up,  yet i...

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week for this week is the Worm-eating Warbler , a bird that breeds throughout much of the eastern United States from southern New England all the way down to eastern Texas. It is a rather plain-looking bird of the forest interior and is not closely related to other warblers. Its name is a misnomer as it doesn't really feast on worms; rather its favorite food is caterpillars which, of course, are sometimes colloquially referred to as worms. *~*~*~* Here is a list of the top five fossil fuel companies that produce harmful emissions. They are mostly the ones you would probably expect. *~*~*~* Who needs to know about how climate change is affecting this country? The current administration in charge thinks the answer is "Nobody." All the scientists working on a report detailing that have been fired . *~*~*~* The current iteration of the Environmental Protection A...

One of my favorite late afternoon spring and summer activities from childhood even until the present day has been watching the Chimney Swifts as they crisscross the sky over my neighborhood. "Sky-scythers" and "earth-skimmers" traveling at two hundred miles an hour and cutting the air with their shrieks, they are marvels of Nature's engineering. Was there ever a creature that was more aptly named? Swifts by Anne Stevenson Spring comes little, a little. All April it rains. The new leaves stick in their fists; new ferns still fiddleheads. But one day the swifts are back. Face to the sun like a child You shout, 'The swifts are back!' Sure enough, bolt nocks bow to carry one sky-scyther Two hundred miles an hour across fullblown windfields. Swereee swereee . Another. And another. It's the cut air falling in shrieks on our chimneys and roofs. The next day, a fleet of high crosses cruises in ether. These are the air pilgrims, pilots of air rivers. But a sh...

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The aptly named Western Kingbird is found throughout much of the western United States and southern Canada. It is a large member of the flycatcher family , somewhat bigger than its counterpart, the Eastern Kingbird . It winters in southern Mexico and Central America and has recently expanded its winter range into southern Florida. A resident of grasslands and scrublands, it can also be found in open urban and suburban areas and its population is increasing. It is the American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week. *~*~*~* Donald Trump celebrated Earth Day as only he would by firing hundreds of workers at the Environmental Protection Agency. *~*~*~*  Does life on Earth owe its origins to an asteroid ? *~*~*~* The stupidity is truly astounding. The new administration in Washington is bent on expanding coal mining while at the same time imposing cuts to the agencies that are charged with ensuring miner health and safe...

I find it true, as the poet says, that gardens are places where the "human desire for peace with every other species wells up in you." If only it were true that "for every hurt there is a leaf to cure it."  In Perpetual Spring by Amy Gerstler Gardens are also good places to sulk. You pass beds of spiky voodoo lilies    and trip over the roots    of a sweet gum tree,    in search of medieval    plants whose leaves,    when they drop off    turn into birds if they fall on land, and colored carp if they    plop into water. Suddenly the archetypal    human desire for peace    with every other species    wells up in you.  The lion    and the lamb cuddling up.  The snake and the snail, kissing. Even the prick of the thistle,    queen of the weeds, revives    your secret belief in perpet...