by Ethel Mortenson Davis



An astronaut that repaired
the Hubble spacecraft
said recently
that when he stepped out
on his first spacewalk
and saw the lighted
blue and white earth
underneath him,

he knew
he was looking
at heaven.

I wonder how
we would have thought
of the land, the animals,
and the people
if we would have known
our earth was heaven?

If this was all the heaven
there will ever be?

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Water Warriors

a sonnet by Thomas Davis

They danced, and then they sang, and on the plains
The winter came as men with guns and eyes,
That hated who they were, looked half insane
And tried to stop their dance and song, the pain
Engendered by the cold, their fears, dark skies,
Brave words that had the force of hurricanes.

But in the deepness of our Mother Earth,
The dance and song of waterkeepers stirred
An earth song, water song, a shining birth
Of human visions that were not deterred
By guns and eyes and human anger spurred
Alive by those whose sense of human worth
Could never see the dance or hear the earth-deep song
The drum-heart beats and beats all winter long.


Filed under poems, Poetry, Thomas Davis

In the Universe of Trees

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter


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November 29, 2016 · 3:12 pm

Long Distance Runner II

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

“I run because it is my culture.”

“My father is not there for me
because he is a drunk.”

“The runners with me
are my family.”

“My culture says that I must greet
the sun by running.”

“I think about my future
when I am running.”

“I think about what my life
is going to be.”


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Potowatomi Woods

a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis


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The Shore that No Man Sees

Thomas Davis

 I sit upon the rocky lakeshore, waves
Long, curving lines that sweep and sing their music
Into the rhythms of my thoughts, their cryptic,
Moon-driven spirit a metaphor that graves
Itself into the thought that strikes me, raves
Unchecked into a day so wind-blown, gray,
It makes me wonder why the disarray
I feel inside seems dark, a chasmal cave.

Then, suddenly, I see the waves as souls
That sweep into a shore that no man sees,
And as they chant into the beach, the shoals
Of rocks become a shore of certainties,
An incantation on the shore, their canticle
Eternity, immersion mystical.


Filed under poems, Poetry, Thomas Davis, Uncategorized

The Coming of Spring and Butterflies

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter



Filed under Art, Photography