in memory of barbara

the planted tree

Once I had eyes only for wild life,
The plants that plant themselves,
The wild animals running free,
As if human cultivation devalues.

As if any true wild habitat exists here.
I live in a patchwork landscape
Developed and undeveloped land
Interlaced and commingled

There are wild animals here that thrive
Living in proximity to human communities,
Foraging where humans cultivate:
Deer, raccoons, possum, geese, pond turtles.

It is a seamless web of life
Like the way the wildflowers flourish
Along the roadside shoulder
Where construction bares the soil.

Now I appreciate the planted trees.
I see them everywhere I see people live.
I see the private yards with their special trees.
I see the public streets lined with rows upon row.

And all of it improves our environment.
And all of it creates a beauty in our lives.
I am learning their names like I know wildlife species:
Sycamores and planes, locusts and scholars, oak variations.

The town has planted a tree in my front yard this year.
I do not know its name. Perhaps an ash?
I will name it and care for it while I am here,
Such a simple way to contribute my part.

two turtles

the romantic outlook

Reading The Age of Wonder,
Surprised to learn how much was known 200 years ago,
More surprised by the shared outlook of science and poetry,
The shared romantic vision, a common sensibility.

This interests me, being a romantic,
No matter that the word may be used to discredit me,
As if it means foolish believer in nonsense,
As if sentiment must be rejected out of hand.

What does it mean to be a romantic?
It is so much bigger than a tendency to fall in love.
It is about feeling a connection with the universe,
A connection with all life, past, present and future.

The astronomer Herschel looked deep into space
Seeing nebulae as far off galaxies, seeing deep time there,
Seeing stars young and old and a dynamic of change,
Nothing like the clerical model of things.

The romantics advocated the scientific method to learn things,
To know the truth, to be set free of superstition.
The poets celebrated this unfolding liberation.
The scientists collaborated even as their nations went to war.

And as I think of what this movement became 100 years later
I think of the science of Marxism as the evolved sensibility
And the striving of Communist organizers to apply that science
Romantically singing the Internationale, “A better world’s in birth.”

So where are we today, another 100 years later?
We respond hopefully to one who promises change.
Science has brought us both wonderful things and horrible things.
There are songs of freedom, songs of struggle to be heard.

The schools still teach “creationism” against the science of evolution.
The world is more than ever divided into a few rich and many poor.
Our civilization destroys life forms and brings global warming.
And yet I’m an optimist. Yes, I’m a romantic.