Poetry Sunday: In Perpetual Spring by Amy Gerstler

In my search for a poem to feature this week, I came across this one by a poet I'd never heard of. I still know very little about her but I know I like her poem, especially this last section:

Even the prick of the thistle,   

queen of the weeds, revives   

your secret belief

in perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.

I find that I do indeed believe in perpetual spring, hopeless optimist that I am, and that I have faith that for every hurt there is a leaf to cure it. Enjoy the poem and tell me what you think.

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 perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.

This week in birds - #679

 A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment: 

The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is the Red-naped Sapsucker, a bird of the forest that, true to its name, relies upon sap as its staple food source. It prefers deciduous or mixed deciduous-coniferous forests, especially areas with aspen groves or riparian habitat with thin-barked deciduous trees. Its population is increasing in these areas and its conservation status is of least concern at present. This is a bird of North America and can be found in parts of western Canada, the United States, and Mexico.

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The administration in Washington continues to take a wrecking ball to government services. This week it hit the Preventive Services Task Force, firing two of its members.

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Do you drink bottled water? The plastic bottle may pose a hazard to your health.

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Warblers are some of the most beautiful and colorful birds that we have in North America. Here are some hints about how to attract them to your yard.

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And here are the fifty warbler species that you could potentially see/attract. 

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A powerful El Niño appears to be forming in the Pacific. Its effect could be devastating.

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The saga of Timmy, the humpbacked whale that had gotten stranded off the German coast, had a sad ending.

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The Great Pyramid of Giza has stood for 4,600 years, a testament to the skill of ancient Egyptian architects and engineers.

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Africa is slowly breaking a part. The rift in East Africa may cause that section to break off from the continent sooner than had previously been thought.

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The war on Iran has placed the world's most endangered big cat, the Asiatic cheetah, in peril.

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Portland, Oregon, a forward-thinking city, has embraced solar power as a way to reduce emissions and lower energy bills.

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Whooping Cranes are simply amazing birds. If you have a chance to see them in the wild, take it! Here are eight interesting facts about them. 

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Researchers have found that beluga whales are able to recognize themselves in mirrors.

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A 2,000-year-old mummy has been found with a papyrus fragment of the Homeric epic, The Iliad, sealed in a clay packet outside its wrappings.

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A gray wolf has been sighted in Sequoia National Park in California for the first time in over a hundred years, more evidence that California's growing wolf population is expanding into new territory.

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The Environmental Protection Agency (which seems to have abandoned the "protection" part of its name) is planning to rescind drinking water standards for four of the "forever chemicals". 

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Here's the Weather Channel's outlook for summer temperatures in the United States and, no surprise, it looks like my part of the world may be hotter than usual.

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And in more news from where I live, this summer solar power will be overtaking coal on the Texas power grid. Might as well take advantage of all that sunlight!

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Poetry Sunday: Ode, Composed on a May Morning by William Wordsworth

"All Nature welcomes Her whose sway
Tempers the year's extremes"

It seems a good description of May. It is certainly the month that tempers the year's extremes here for June begins our long, hot summer that lasts through September and sometimes even into October. So let's enjoy this pleasant month while we can. 

Ode, Composed on a May Morning

by William Wordsworth

While from the purpling east departs

The star that led the dawn,

Blithe Flora from her couch upstarts,
For May is on the lawn.
A quickening hope, a freshening glee,
Foreran the expected Power,
Whose first-drawn breath, from bush and tree,
Shakes off that pearly shower.

All Nature welcomes Her whose sway
Tempers the year's extremes;
Who scattereth lustres o'er noon-day,
Like morning's dewy gleams;
While mellow warble, sprightly trill,
The tremulous heart excite;
And hums the balmy air to still
The balance of delight.

Time was, blest Power! when youth and maids
At peep of dawn would rise,
And wander forth, in forest glades
Thy birth to solemnize.
Though mute the song---to grace the rite
Untouched the hawthorn bough,
Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight;
Man changes, but not Thou!

Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings
In love's disport employ;
Warmed by thy influence, creeping things
Awake to silent joy:
Queen art thou still for each gay plant
Where the slim wild deer roves;
And served in depths where fishes haunt
Their own mysterious groves.

Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath,
Instinctive homage pay;
Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath
To honor thee, sweet May!
Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs
Behold a smokeless sky,
Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares
To open a bright eye.

And if, on this thy natal morn,
The pole, from which thy name
Hath not departed, stands forlorn
Of song and dance and game;
Still from the village-green a vow
Aspires to thee addrest,
Wherever peace is on the brow,
Or love within the breast.

Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach
The soul to love the more;
Hearts also shall thy lessons reach
That never loved before.
Stript is the haughty one of pride,
The bashful freed from fear,
While rising, like the ocean-tide,
In flow the joyous year.

Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse
The service to prolong!
To yon exulting thrush the Muse
Entrusts the imperfect song;
His voice shall chant, in accents clear,
Throughout the live-long day,
Till the first silver star appear,
The sovereignty of May.

This week in birds - #678

A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment: 

The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is the colorful Mourning Warbler. It is found during breeding season in forest habitats of southeastern Canada and upper northeastern United States and down into Central America and parts of Venezuela, Colombia, and Ecuador in South America during its nonbreeding season. Its population is decreasing but its status is not yet a matter of concern.

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A cruise ship has been stranded in the Atlantic Ocean because of an outbreak of the deadly hantavirus.

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El Niño is headed our way once again but it probably won't reach full force until autumn or winter.

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Our current president seems to be a big fan of coal, because of course he would be. He is directing that aging coal plants be kept open.

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Lithuania is hoping that its restored peat bogs can combat global warming, as well as stopping Russian tanks from invading.

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A preliminary study indicates that building a dam across the Bering Strait could help save the planet from some effects of climate change.

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The current administration in Washington has killed the Public Lands Rule which gave conservation activities on federal land equal priority with mining and logging.

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It appears that the predator-prey ratio of wolves and moose at Michigan's Isle Royale National Park is stabilizing.

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A study of ancient and modern human DNA indicates that our species is still evolving.

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Since building nests is such hard work, some birds choose to steal instead.

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Remora often hitch rides on on marine creatures, sometimes in a very intrusive part of the animal.

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The Devil's Hole pupfish population declined drastically about a year ago and scientists released some fish that they had raised into the hole to help stabilize it.

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Excavations at Pompeii are still finding remains of those who tried to flee the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

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The illegal trade in gibbons has hit an all-time high.

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One million Houston toad eggs have been released into a Texas park to try to help the endangered species make a comeback. 

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An endangered northern quoll has been released back into the wild in central Queensland after it accidentally took a ride on a truck.

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Hyenas are unexpected helpers in the fight against climate change.

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Here are fifteen images that won the German Society for Nature Photography's annual contest.

One more...

Here's one more image from Mother's Day posts - one that I really liked, The image and its caption are a reminder to us all that we should appreciate those who are behind us every day.

 

                         Fear not what is before you for those that care are behind you.

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day and I am remembering my mother, gone for many years now. I never appreciated her enough when I was growing up. It was only after I grew up and became a mother myself that I actually realized what a saint she was. I don't think I ever thanked her enough for all that she did for me. How I wish I could have her back to thank her now and to have her rock me to sleep one more time.

Rock Me to Sleep

by Elizabeth Akers Allen

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,

Make me a child again just for tonight!

Mother, come back from the echoless shore,

Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,

Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;

Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—      

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!

I am so weary of toil and of tears,—      

Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—   

Take them, and give me my childhood again!

I have grown weary of dust and decay,—   

Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;

Weary of sowing for others to reap;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother – rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,

Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!

Many a summer the grass has grown green,

Blossomed and faded, our faces between:

Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,

Long I tonight for your presence again.

Come from the silence so long and so deep;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,

No love like mother-love ever has shone;

No other worship abides and endures,—      

Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:

None like a mother can charm away pain

From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.

Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;—      

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,

Fall on your shoulders again as of old;

Let it drop over my forehead tonight,

Shading my faint eyes away from the light;

For with its sunny-edged shadows once more

Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;

Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—   

Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long

Since I last listened your lullaby song:

Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem

Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.

Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,

With your light lashes just sweeping my face,

Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—

Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep! 

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