March 20: Raven

far from the desert

is the same raven soaring 

over these snowy fields

March 14: Grasslands sunrise

greeting the sunrise

with a much louder welcome

soaring raven

September 1: Bog

raven overhead

each pitcher plant a pond

in which we might drown

 

 

November 21: Flyover

Chatting with a friend

on the sidewalk. Raven too

has something to say.

 

Posted with Blogsy

August 27: Moonlight in Vermont

Last light gilds the fields.

Raven calls the full moon up

for eight cameras.

 

Posted with Blogsy

June 14: Cannon Mountain

Typical raven's joke:

as the tram went past

I mistook the birds for bear cubs.

Posted with Blogsy

February 3: Heard on the street

I thought a raven called
but it was children playing
in the snowy street.

October 18: Schoodic Head Trail

Raven alerts the woods--
our clumsy passage through
misty spruces and moss

February 8: Raven

I crane my neck to see
a single raven
soaring above Route One.

July 18: Reminder

Hundreds of people from the community gathered together today under a big tent in the hot sun at the Ragged Mountain Recreation Area to celebrate the life of Ken Bailey, a man who did it all: he was a loyal husband and father, Vietnam vet, editor and columnist of the local paper, owner of the town shoe store, policeman, fireman, Rotarian, Maine guide, avid hunter and fisherman, executive director of the Megunticook Watershed Association, and lake warden on Megunticook Lake and Nortons Pond. He had a kind word for everyone, and his life was an inspiration. He loved life and outlived his cancer prognosis by about four years, engaged and alert to the very end.

I stood in the shade of a spruce tree while family and close friends recounted their favorite memories of Ken. Up the mountainside a raven croaked several times, distracting me for a moment. As I briefly shifted my attention, I could hear a goldfinch twitter and dip overhead. It struck me how here below we were all thinking about mortality, grieving a loss in our human community, while up in the sky the birds continue to fly and sing: life goes on. Beautiful things still happen, even when we aren't open to recognizing them.

Above the mourners
goldfinches flit and chatter 
in the bright sunshine.

May 17: Ravens

Today is our wedding anniversary, and as is our tradition, my husband and I met after work at the outdoor chapel where we got married. Nine years ago, it was also a sunny day, a bit chillier--I wore long underwear under my dress--with the leaves just unfurling and the earliest flowers blooming. My husband brought me roses, and in the afternoon light his eyes shone with that unreal color blue that first drew me to him all those years ago.
 
The theme of our wedding was ravens--specifically, Odin's two birds named Thought and Memory. Our wedding rings had engraved ravens on them. It's a long story, but now we have matching black ceramic wedding rings, still adhering to the raven theme.
 
Which is why it seemed especially symbolic when, back home, I heard the croak of a raven flying overhead, headed for some corvid fracas on Mount Battie. Later, my husband and I watched together as the pair soared back over the house.
 
They're not here for us,
but we thrill to see ravens--
Thought and Memory.