a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
My new novel, The Prophecy of the Wolf, has been released by All Things That Matter Press! It’s available now at Otherworlds Books and More and Novel Bay in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin and Yardstick Books in Algoma, Wisconsin. Readers can also order it from almost any online venue.
I spent three years working on a historical novel that is set in the mid to late 1600s on the Door Peninsula and Washington Island as famous French priests and fur traders started to seriously impact the traditional lives of Native Americans. The Neshnabek, or Potawatomi Tribe, are at the heart of the story as Ogima tells about how he, as a young man, became embroiled in the affairs of Quapaw, a powerful waubeno that has had a vision given to him by a storyteller wolf. Quapaw, because of his shaman visions, starts to try to keep the Neshnabek from falling prey to the fur trade, the beguilement of French trade, and power of Christian conversion. The novel explores the largest themes possible as event follows event, eventually reaching a crescendo that has become a distant legend even in our time. In the process the lifestyle and beauty of Neshnabek civilization and culture becomes a beautiful backdrop to the action.

Filed under Published Books, Thomas Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Forever is not a word In our universe, nothing in it stays the same. One day our earth will become pieces in the cosmic pond. We are not forever. Your movement in the early morning through the quiet rooms will one day drift away. Forever is not a word in our universe. One day we too will have to part.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Sometimes I want to go to you but remember that I have put you in a special room far from here, a room, nonetheless, with an open door, so that I can enter anytime. So, I can see your smile when you were running with Shiva, the golden lab, through autumn leaves in a special forest long ago. So, I can walk through that door anytime.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The moon is most beautiful at her beginning, or end. Like a fine-edged sickle punctuating the blackness. Minimal. A lot like you. Not outstanding. Almost missed. Nevertheless beautiful. Step outside with me. We’ll see her from the steps. Let your skin touch the cold.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems