by Ethel Mortenson Davis
to: Standing Feather
When we become
the most fragmented,
the most broken,
or so we think,
we step
onto the track,
the furrow
that is the circle
of the universe.
It is a river
that pulls us along,
connecting us
to something greater
than ourselves,
to the great spiral,
to the circle dance of the honey bee.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Rosy-red crab apples lay
on the ground in front of us
as we walked in the chilled air
near a forested lake.
Fifty years ago
the same red crab apples
were picked up
by a college student
as she strung them
on a string around her neck.
She knew this was a beginning
of the path she would follow,
a path centering herself to the earth.
This also was a period of darkness
where a string of blackness
would catch her in a trap.
But there were people
like the shepherd mother
of the small dorm where she stayed
who taught her
there were good and trustworthy people:
apples that lay at our feet,
red like young girls’ cheeks
in the chilled fall air.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Blackberry moon,
moon of the blackberry month,
snags at me,
rips at my skin.
Star-gazers come
and get caught
in her sweet clutches,
but are overtaken
by a storm
with brittle, scratchy fingers
of lightning
that blackens out the moon.
Now we must wait
for the harvest moon
as she ripens
on top of the waters.
Note: This is Ethel’s contribution to the moon-night organized by Francha Barnard and Write-On Door County.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
“Who were these people?”
“They were people
who overpopulated their planet,
depleting all its natural elements.”
“They were at continuous war
with each other,
never satisfied with their treaties.”
“Eventually they lost their atmosphere.”
“Then nothing stayed on the planet.
Everything blew off.”
“Yes, in just a few thousand years
their life and their planet died.”
“They called themselves Earth, I think.
Earth.”
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
Four Windows Press has just published Ethel Mortenson Davis’s new book, Under the Tail of the Milky Way Galaxy.
This is Ethel’s fifth book of poetry and has all of the poems she has written since moving to Wisconsin from New Mexico.
John Looker, one of the world’s finest poets, The Human Hive, wrote from Great Britain that “Here is a harvest of finely-judged lyrical poems that express a joy in the natural world. Carefully observed and beautifully expressed, they are not just nature poems however. Ethel Mortenson Davis has a deep reverence for nature, coupled with a sadness at humankind’s frequent indifference.”
Standing Feather, whose book, The Glowing Pink, has recently been published by Four Windows Press, said in his review that “There is something profoundly spiritual and tragically elusive in our understanding of the vast wilderness. In Under the Tail of the Milky Way Galaxy, Ethel Mortenson Davis shows us how to connect deeply with the sacred spiral and reminds us that compassion is the fragrant essence that draws light into the darkness of human desire and elevates us to the edge of grand possibility.”
We’re hoping that those who love elegant, finely crafted imagistic poetry will pick up a copy at amazon.com or from the Galleria Carnaval in El Morro, New Mexico, www.galleriacarnaval.com. This is a book that continues the fine tradition of publishing quality poetry and fiction pursued by Four Windows Press.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry, Published Books
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
It is a time
when the smell
of sweetgrass
hangs heavy
in the ear
of summer,
when light lingers long
in the night,
and we let go of
what is not right in the world,
when we drift
across the tall grasses
to where fireflies
are whispering
to each other.
In this small pocket
of summer,
the deer
have finally
let themselves
be seen.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
