Tag Archives: Ethel Mortenson Davis

Kevin Michael Davis, In Memorium

a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis, Alazanto

Sinking Chair June 15, 2008

The Design Teacher

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She taught him
to look at the dragonfly—
its color, design,
and to look at why their wings
moved the way they did.

They searched near
the small pond
and found the black and whites,
the emerald greens,
the slim turquoise and black damsels,
the orange and blues.
All had whirling lace wings
above their heads.

One day they saw
a golden dragonfly,
or so they thought–

so they came to find
the new dragonfly
in the late afternoon light
near the small pond
in a universe

that slipped through
a hole in the basket
never to be found
or picked up again.

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Reach

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Her reach finds
small openings
in the forest canopy
until the carpet
at the bottom brings
every kind of plant and fern to formation.

These are true families
that enjoy each other’s company–
some living at the top of hills,
other kinds in depressions–
trees that are dependent
on plants around them,
plants that only live by certain trees.

Step lightly.
Speak in whispers,
for there are babies sleeping
everywhere.

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Summertime and the Living is Easy

a pastel drawing by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Summertime and the Living Is Easy

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Like Water Around the Trees

a photo essay by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Like Water Around the Trees

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How Could I Know?

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

It looks to me as though
you’ve been around, perhaps,
since time began—
and I have lived at least
as long.

Oh? Only that much time?

I’m sure there was no life
before for you or me.
How could I know your face
so well?

As well as some old rock
I’ve seen hang, clinging
to a mountain wall,

and I know what wave of brightness,
or of darkness, to expect there
waiting for me.

You step and make some rounded move.
I know beforehand which way to go.
How could I know? Unless. . .

You’ve been around, perhaps,
since time began.
I know I’ve lived at least as long.

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Early Spring

a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Early Spring

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Better Place

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Perhaps,
if we didn’t want
to go to a better place—
they said when he died
he went to a better place—
we would want to take care
of the earth
and other species.

Perhaps,
if we thought
of the earth
as our better place,
we would revere it–
the forest and animals
would be our cathedral.

This morning
the cornered possum
lay down and played dead
until the children and dog left.
Then she got up and ran away,

returning to her cherished life,
her better place.

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Cosmic Fish

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Cosmic Fish

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Cosmic Bird

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Cosmic Bird

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Lake Michigan Ice

a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Lake Michigan Ice

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