Sunday, May 28, 2023

                                Blog 135 Nature, Creative Spirit and Health


For over twenty years, I have run and participated a monthly Nature Writing Group, which often meets at the North Park Village Nature Center, in Chicago.  People bring writing – poems, short fiction, memoirs, letters, as well as art work and even music to share at monthly meetings.  We also often take walks through wild natural areas, to appreciate Nature’s year-round beauty and to help replenish our vital energy from the Earth’s almost endless supply.  Creative, inspirational endeavors also support and replenish happiness, vital energy and health.  And living a responsible and respectful life in relation to the Environment helps support and replenish the Earth’s health, as well as our own.


For this blog, I am sharing poems from two of our members.  Thanks to both of them for sharing. Please enjoy.


Aurora         by Linda Vick


I heard the news – a


And so I came

And stood and watched,

Binoculars at the ready.

Scanning the trees,


Searching for a fleeting


But I only heard the wind 


And felt the warmth of sun

and shade.

I breathed the subtle smells 

of earth and living things

And I counted the day a gift

Even though the bird was

never seen.


The bulletin came in the


About the night before.

I knew it was too late

But still I stood in the 

Dark field, dark night

Scanning the dark clouded


Night after night

Wishing, wanting, willing to

see a flash

A glimpse of the fabled

curtain of color.

When the clouds cleared I

saw the moon

Circle of light flanked by the

brightest star

A common beauty stunning

in itself

But there was no flash of 

glory light

I had to be content with 

what was there

And find the glory in the 


Sometimes the joy is in the 


And the reward is in small




The Visit     by Jackie Wolk


Every year that you show up 

it’s like one of the most divine of the cool kids coming to hang out with me

The neighbors admire and envy us and 

I feel so special that you want to visit me and only me 

even with the underlying dread of

knowing you’ll be here so briefly

It’s gotten to where I can tell the exact day that you’ll arrive

and the precise point at which you will be your most

glorious and compelling

I don’t just look forward to it

I anticipate the anticipation

of your waxing in the days leading up to it

when I just want to gather you up in my arms

and take your luminescence inside

You look and smell creamy, like soap

Then I could pose

take selfies with you

in the background like a name-drop

(Hey, look at how worthy I am!)

I even grow giddy with the thought of you getting ready to go

It’s so subtle that the first time it happened you were gone practically overnight

I woke to find you gone and gasped

Now I’m aware of the signs:

your head turning away and down

the slow detachment

the wilting crown

all my neighbors know it too

as they pipe up about how beautiful and lucky it was to be around you

the smell of you still adrift in the air

I rest my head on the screen door and stare outside

at your ghosts in my garden

thinking, was it worth it this time?

Is it worth it anytime?

I remember how bleak my other choice would be

before going about my business for another year



This month’s offer: contact me for information about attending a Writing Group meeting, and I’ll give you specifics for that month.  Enjoy this beautiful weather.










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