Kithship is intimacy with the landscape in which one dwells and is entangled. –Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt Dear friend, We share with you here some writing and visual art from the 6-week virtual spring gathering of the nature-inspired writing program, Remembering Our Place in the Sacred Circle of Life. Participants came together from California, Connecticut, Oregon, and New York. Discovery was the theme that surfaced this time. Writers shared how time spent in the natural world in intentional observation, even and especially, in a familiar place, resulted in new discoveries and a deeper connection to their environment. The Earth is pulsing with life, and we are too. Stepping outside on a regular basis, resting in quiet awareness, and opening our senses to kith and more-than-human kin, is a good practice to support well-being, creativity, and a sense of belonging. From my heart to yours, Christina Burress Board Member, OMEC  Morning Watch by Regan Stacey The fleet of feathers leave wakes, streaks of white waves against the black surface rippled with wind. The sun rises over the hill, giving light to color and form, warmth to the edges of night, a welcome contrast, the waking of dawn. The gift of a sleepless night lies in the emergence of light and life. What once was dark and indistinguishable is now layered with sight and sound. To participate, to witness, and to know, before the bugle, before the bell, there were the birds, and that first sliver of light that announced the day. On morning watch, a stillness claims the surface as the clouds come in and all is quiet again.  Earth Mandala by Jen VanBenschoten A Gentle Sea Laps, Bound by Mind on all Sides by Matt Higgins He quips into startled sincerity I am a birdfeeder I cast and I strew and I wait A flicker taps and cracks Papery shells flutter and flip Sweetmeats revealed to the diligent critic A bushtit’s legs are thin and straight But their nest’s a soft, sagging mass Stuck to sticks, aloft in space But he is a bullcow Limp grass between his broad, flat teeth He hopes a bird will land And pluck ticks from his broad, flat back And he is a limpet Obstinate and cold Sprayed with saline syrup Slapped with sheets of sugar kelp But he is a city crow, present and available And he knows if every quiet breath Of every quiet spring morning Were heard all at once Meter/sound-cacophony Cracked dam-dampens illusion Spreading silence.  Dear Tree by Sally Grauer Dear Tree, with your roots so deep, winding, stretching, absorbing, nourishing, communicating. Dear Tree, with your arm like branches reaching for the sky, transitioning from leaves, green to orange to red to yellow, to pods, to bare, to buds, how does it feel to be up so high, seeing the land from above? How does it feel to have the tickle of animals and insects climbing up your trunk, nestling in your branches? Oh, our dear giving tree, you protect us from predators and reach out in support to hold nests for the young. How does it feel to have the wind blow through your branches and leaves, to endure the heat, drought, snow and ice? How giving you are to all of us. You give us beauty, you give us protection from the wind, and shade to protect us from the heat. How empty this world would be without your presence. Worm Layer by Katy Joyce Spring is the time for weeds and new plants and trying to identify little flowers that pop up to say hello. When I pull a weed, I am immediately met with many worm friends and always say hello. I think the layers go: plants, flowers, trees, and volunteers; worms; granite. There is a layer just under the plants made entirely of worms. I see the happiness in the soil and the healthiness to sustain the worms. |
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