Gravid as I Am

Poetry
Written By Jack Phillips

Now we are closer to equinox than not a time of rot reeks rill of leftover juices glad now for the sun. Melted chagrins laid bare. I walk with my friends along the pond suck and mud slip wet knees, extra boots in the truck. In two weeks maybe three by slither slink skin on skin this earth will be redeemed green water will borrow moonlight for jellies ribbons of jewels our eyes vernal mornings to find our faces there. Soon overwintered tadpoles will graze pondweed somehow still green. Soon so very soon I can feel it the waxing moon will draw up deep turtles gravid as they are. When the first frog jumps on that liquid drum pond and wood will ring singing frogs will make bubbles of love these little Hyla and Rana and Bufo maybe a new species this year but I have bubbles of my own, gravid as I am. 

Jack Phillips

Jack Phillips is a naturalist, poet, nature writer and founder of The Naturalist School. Jack has developed mindfulness-in-nature methods that awaken wildness within and connect with the creative processes of the earth community. He lives in the Missouri-Kickatuus watershed of eastern Nebraska. The Bur Oak Manifesto: Seeking Nature and Planting Trees in the Great Plains and co-editor of Treasures of the Great Plains: an Ecological Perspective with Paul Johnsgard and Tom Lynch. His poetry will appear in an upcoming issue of Canary.

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Upon hearing the glacier’s been declared officially dead