Category Archives: nature
Is there not, for all to see, the beauty of the Sun and the Moon, the pageantry of the changing seasons in the year, the sweet music of daybreak, and the spell of nights under the open sky? What of the rain falling through the leaves of trees towering to the gates of heaven, and the dew in early morning creeping over the grass, tipping it with spear-points of silver?
– Tree of Life
On this green hill, a starling sounds bigger than herself – a tape rewinding,
the banging, singing of a kettle: we’re sunk into the grass
waiting for the stars to fall, the forest to encroach
over our limbs, to turn our whispers into soil, our mouths and legs
entwined as roots. Beneath our breath,
hiding under wings of telltale junipers, muttering
in tones so low it could take years to hear the growth
or miss the space. If we wait long enough,
when starlings fall for stars, we’ll hear it on this hill
tonight, your fingers grown through mine – the ripened hour
will bring us an imbalance in the air – the echo of a cry
for seeds displacing soil. Someday, we agree,
we will be trees again: this hill, this field
pregnant at the rim, is growing and contracting,
pushing our meridians together, our latitudes
into a canopy of sounds, our lifetimes far beyond the songs of birds.
– David William Gorin, 19, Wellesley, Mass. 2000 ARTS winner
With foam and spray and a boundless roar, the sleepless sea calls us toward the shore. The wisdom of all life lives here, where the land and water kiss, a shimmer of waves and wind whispering the secrets of our origins. How easily we are lured by scientific knowledge to measure this mystery– calculating geology, biology, climate. But when an offshore breeze gust life into our lungs, we feel our souls brim with immeasurable passion for the testament of the waters. By simply sitting, listening, breathing, we feel the pull of the tides and the immensity of the sea connecting us to all things.
Nature by Jillian Smith
Wind is a quiet sound,
Lifting weightless dancers
Calming the destruction.
The sun is a solitary piece
of gold glitter,
Giving life to reaching plants,
Warming the earth with
its beaming rays.
Clouds are like cotton candy,
sweetening the ground with
And relieving the brightness
of the sky.
The moon is a glowing cat’s eye,
Taking away the fears
of dark and
Giving hope for a peaceful night.
The moon shines down from a cloudless sky. The stars little points of twinkling brilliance tossed carelessly across the still blackness of the night. It was one of those rare nights when true beauty was reached. A beauty wasted on the multitude sleeping safe and warm in their beds. The world is perfectly still at this early hour. As if everything is holding it’s breath before the one big exhale into daybreak.
Why does a virtuous man take delight in the landscapes? Because the din of the dusty world and the locked-in-ness of human habitations are what human nature habitually abhors; while on the contrary, haze, mist, and the haunting spirits of the mountains are what human nature seeks, and yet can rarely find.
A tree whispered in its sleep, words that no human ear could understand.
– Cornelia Funke, Inkheart
I thank you, God, for this most amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky, and for everything
which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
– e.e. cummings, 100 Selected Poems
When despair for the world grows in me
And I wake in the night at the least sound
In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
Who do not tax their lives with forethought
Of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
Waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and I am free.
– Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things”