Covering the earth and filling the spread of the heaven,
As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses,
Passing, I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves,
I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring.
—Walt Whitman
An excerpt from Walt Whitman’s elegy to President Abraham Lincoln. It was in the summer of 1865 during a period of national mourning of the president’s assassination on April 14, 1865.
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
-Lord Byron
McMillan Marsh
Sandhill Crane
April, 2021
“Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.” —John Muir
Happy Birthday John Muir.
I followed the trail
that led into the shadows
of the dark woods.
Once in, I waited near a rope,
was handed spray for my limbs,
then a flashlight beamed where to sit.
I was transported—
back to the turn of the century,
no longer a tourist.
A sailing rig became a working voyage,
as I tried to retrieve a piano,
and developed a love affair.
In a previous summer visit,
alongside German prisoners of war,
I harvested our bountiful orchards.
The next year, I rolled up my sleeves
and tackled shipbuilding,
because our men were overseas.
Time, place, culture, history,
it is all there under the stars—
journey with the Northern Sky Theater.
—Deb Johnston
Shed warm coats and hats,
this season springs of beginnings.
Come out, start anew.
-Deb Johnston
Ponds and lakes sealed in ice,
locking the schools below.
The curl of the auger bites through.
Silver fins and scales scour for rations
dangled hook by hook.
Risking freedom, she reaches
for that one last morsel.
-Deb Johnston
smudged markings near your eyes
like a wide receiver on game day
but your’s are night games
with feet like tiny hands
foraging for food
—Deb Johnston
Bare ice unveils
in plain view,
creatures pass this way.
I’m merely a guest,
whether den, lodge, or nest,
uninvited near someone’s home.
—Deb Johnston
“Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.”
— Hans Christian Andersen
