Passing Through the Shadow of the Earth
Jonathan Skinner

 

 

ebb tide dropping the river

frog leaps from the mud

greased stone I step on

 

kingfisher         starlings         red-winged blackbirds

 

          heron              beginning

 

of attention

 

paddle digs in along kayak

flanks sending upriver

 

low blinding light puts

you swiftly in shadows

cresting through the chop

wind against current

 

kingfisher clicks

ahead, on a branch, restless

darts     around the bend

figure eights

wings fanned a moment

          making a bow

 

wind in the trees

these still woods, growing moss

exhale at the tide going out

 

eyes green blue obsidian look out

up or down searching

for knowledge in our bodies

which know nothing

 

but what they know

they know well, are satisfied

with so much less

 

what the turtle knows

estivating in mud

the snake propelling its slight

snout along the surface

 

the butterfly tumbling in a gust

the hawk lofting and aiming

its deadly sternum

 

all things turn, flash, catch

in the mind a moment

 

we pass through shadows

we do not know lie on us

degrees of penumbral

influence

 

the earth and moist part

of plants blown over us

by the hot, drying wind

 

people say the planet is dying

it is we who are dying

hungry for life we put the earth

inside of us

 

we want it to pass through

the gate of dispossession

 

this not owning what we are

being surprised the way

touch answers touch

 

on its own terms

the way a cloud expands

contracts, turns

blackbirds synchronized

opening their ranks

 

not fixated, meandering

always a movement away from

and a return

                    to places, persons

          we come to love with particulars

 

not of the past

but ongoing   

          lifted from yet immersed in

              a change that does not change

 

knowledge of what does not die

until we do

 

the heron steers slowly

out of long river grasses

legs trailing, squawks

disappears

 

doves cooing

under bridge rafters

as I haul myself out, remove

sandals           step into the thick

 

clay of the bank

pull the kayak up

over mud and grass

 

where the road crosses

at a bend in the river

 

 

~~~~~

Jonathan Skinner founded the journal ecopoetics. His books include Chip Calls (Little Red Leaves, 2014), Birds of Tifft (BlazeVOX, 2011), Warblers (Albion, 2010) and Political Cactus Poems (Palm Press, 2005). He teaches in the Department of English and Comparative Literary Studies at the University of Warwick.