Tag Archives: art





The sun is setting under gray thunderheads
after ninety days of rain and we are talking
with the camera, its long thick eye closed,

but at the ready as the landscape changes
clothes in the crisp, clean air, every shadow
sharp. ‘Art,’ he suggests, ‘may be the only

way to save humanity.’ I submit to my son
that creativity comes from constantly rubbing
against rural realities begging a hands-on plan—

of pumps and plumbing, leaky troughs
and fences, all the languages of livestock
and the wild we try to translate, an art

from and on this solid ground as it changes
with the light. I walk and click as I speak,
searching for an answer to savor later.





Of all the spontaneous art, none
more trustworthy, more enthralling
than the wild mirrors—of heart

and grace without guilt pulsing
to get free, rising with the ascension
of ducks from cattails, clear droplets

raining from webbed feet etched
to hang on white cloud walls
to draws us in—and then, like

windows out to where we might
want to be—like poetry, learning
to fly with words a little at a time.