Ethel and I have both had new publications. Ethel just appeared in the Blue Heron Review with her poem, “Laborer”. You can see the poem in this wonderful online publication at https://blueheronreview.com/blue-heron-review-issue-7-winter-2017.
I just had a sonnet published by Bramble Lit Magazine online. “An Elder’s Prayer” can be found here: http://www.wfop.org/an-elders-prayer. Ethel had one of her best poems in the last issue of Bramble, “Love Song” that was announced earlier in fourwindowspress.com. It is being published by the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets and is a really exciting development.
“An Elder’s Prayer” is part of a sonnet cycle that I am working on about the water keepers at Standing Rock in North Dakota.
My new book, The Weirding, A Dragon Epic, is still in the process of being published by Bennison Books in Britain. I really hope some of our readers will consider reading books by other fine Bennison authors.
Both Ethel and I have also been notified that we will have poems in a new anthology, Indra’s Net that Bennison Books is putting together. Ethel will have three poems in the anthology. I will have two poems.
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
It’s been too long
since we last talked.
I must tell you
that men have had
their way with her.
She is hurt and sick,
but keeps giving us gifts,
ignoring their torture
Today she surprises us
with the white hares.
They hop over each other
making giggling sounds,
laughing at the prairie grasses.
She gives the spring rain
that coaxes green buds.
Soon we will plant
tomato and egg plants.
She gives us seeds to sprout,
not darkness, nor pain,
Photograph by Sonja Bingen
by Thomas Davis
In North Dakota’s winter frost drives deep
Into the ground, soils compacted tight
Until, in spring, the ground heaves, water seeps
Into the soils, and land begins to write
The story of another spring, the slow,
Implacable force nature heaves and cracks
Into the manmade things, the bravado
Of buildings, pipelines, streets, steel railroad tracks.
Inside an empty field an apple tree
Has grown into the crumbling of a farm.
It stands where once a lively family
Built walls to keep them safe and free from harm.
This pipeline will not ever fail, they say.
It won’t leak. Not a minute. Not a day.
a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
the wind through the trees
sounded like air
through giant bellows,
like large lungs
breathing in air
and out air,
Like we felt,
next to our mother
a great pair of lungs
that we knew somehow was
the source of life.
a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter