nature

All Water’s Moments

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

Well hello. I’ve been aiming my way back here for a long time. I’m sitting in my Writing Club with middle schoolers who are happily typing away on their own work. I was looking for something to work on when I stumbled upon this poem.

Do you ever have the experience of finding something you wrote long ago, and you say “Hey, wait, this is pretty good”? Well that’s what happened here. I hope you think so, too.

And I hope I’m back. Momentous things may be happening for my writing soon, and I’d love to share them with your!

All Water’s Moments

The stream is creating its course as it flows,  
not carving it 
into the rocks and soil; 
it is wearing them down,  
so slowly and quickly 
that it is happening in two  
different  
seconds. 

This stream’s wet pattern is the laying of itself into the silt and stone, 
ever creating and sustaining its path. 
Thus it changes  
always  
now. 

Thus it is creating the pattern of its own tone, 
A tone made up of all its water and of all its moments: 
Its great single sound 
is a mingling of large and small waterfalls,  
spigots, 
ripples, V-shaped like bird migrations, 
spouts and shallows; 
water caught in rock-trap cataracts rasping and splashing, 
water deep bass in shadowed crevices,  
pouring so thick it is both clear and obscuring, 
full flowing into the pool it is ever carving.  

Only the dirt and rock can feel this streams underside, touch its other surface. 
Unless I will lay in it,  
dig myself down so the top of my skin  
is even with the skin of the planet, 
let the stream cover me 
wet me, 
yes, drown me, 

But before that I will feel the sliding of its bottom water 
On top of me. 

But I will not,  
because it is too cold,  
and I would die. 

In the ever-moments I have with this stream, 
It lets me see a little of the slowness 
that is hidden in its rushing, 

All of its flickering frozen moments,  
numberless as stars and pages. 

It slows down only enough to define its slipping away. 
 
And I see it dousing a stone, browning its tan rock skin, 
And I see it part around a boulder, and the sound it makes 
must be that of water tearing. 

I see where the waterfall has caused a spout at its base, 
so some of the water that funnels down  
curves back up 
and reaches its top and comes 
down 

so that splashes  
                         jump  

                                       off   

and I have to think it is playing, the water is playing, because if I follow a splash  
down 
I see it form,  
bend out,  
come apart and arc a diver’s curve,  
and then there are so many others,  
brief splashes,  
about to fall back into the flow,  
and I laugh,  
which is why I think it’s playing,  
because it’s not right to just stand by a stream 
and laugh at water, 
is it? 

And it asks me, 
in its stream language of gurgle and burble and moan,  
and patter and drip,  
Of low boom, 
it asks, “can you see now  
flowing by?” 

and the sound drops back down, and there is the water, thin and fast, and there is Thoreau, of course, he’s always hanging around by the stream, and he says, “now now now now now now now now now now now now now,” until I just about hit him, and I’m about to shout, “I get it!” but he has that look on his face, the one he gets, and you realize that in that man’s mind he is only trying to teach you, and he is taking this seriously, but he also sees the humor in it, and the inherent absurdity, but also the incredible meaningfulness of it all, also that I am beneath his contempt, that we are just humble specks hurtling through space, that we are all one, and we are all separate, and how can you hit all that?  I wouldn’t know where to aim.

In the Shadow of

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

Been a while since I did a TankaTuesday challenge. This one is to use the phrase “in the shadow of” with the task of creating contrasting imagery of real or metaphorical light and darkness. 

In the shadow of of the sun, the moon waxes and wanes.
In the shadow of ambition, small achievements are lost to pride. 
In the shadow of trees, shade provides cool shelter. 
In the shadow of envy, what we have is lost to what we want.
In the shadow of loss, love's sad face is a mirror of what we miss. 
In the shadow of the mountain, cool valleys grow by snow fed streams.
In the shadow of the moon, we remember that darkness is enlightened by stars.

Three Waves

/ boz bozeman / 14 Comments

The Tanka Tuesday challenge was to use words from this word garden:

I chose wave, two, sail and castle

I wrote three Tankas focused on different meanings of the word “wave”, and included the words “two”, “sail” and “castle” to focus my wavy theme. 

1.
Still water sailing
Contemplating smallest waves
Powerful enough
To lift our heavy boat up
Working with the ocean's strength

2.
She is first to wave
The only movement within
The stillest moment
And then we break free, smiling,
Surging, running, embracing.

3.
Thick brick and cold stone
An edifice of power.
A castle's defense
Has no strength to stop the wave
Flowing force of joy and love.

Not a humdrum or mindless poem

/ boz bozeman / 10 Comments

The tankatuesday challenge this week is to write a tanka based on the words “humdrum” and “mindless” without using those words.

I always try to catch myself when I allow this miraculous existence to become dull. It’s easy to coast through life without appreciation. Today’s sunrise was another glorious reminder. 

It's the sun again
Same old fireball rising
Boring miracle.
Wait! That's not like me at all
I crave its light and its heat.

One of the Biggest Bears Yet!

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I was driving home from a hike with Anna. She was in the back seat. I turn the corner to my road and see a SUV backing out of our driveway. Not too surprising because we’re the first on the road, and a lot of people turn around in it.

But it’s actually my former neighbor Petra, who was visiting her parents next door. She lowered her sunglasses and said, “You have a bear in your yard.”

I looked up to see the enormous black hump of a strolling bear in my front yard.

I said “I sure do!”

After I said thanks, I rolled up into my driveway as it was hidden by brush and trees. This gave me time to park near the garage and get my camera out. It was nice having Anna safe in the car, leaving me free to film without worrying about her.

The bear obliged by walking very slowly into the frame and through the back yard. I got it centered on my screen, and then was able to watch it live. It’s haunches were unbelievably powerful, and vibrated with every step.

See for yourself and scan the QR below for my Instagram reel. Or search @bozbozeman on Insta and give me a follow if you’d like!

Not my first bear video

Ode to Wasps

/ boz bozeman / 2 Comments

I don’t like to kill things. But when you own a home, pest management is pretty important. And wasps are a dangerous kind of pest.

For years, I only took down nests when they were in an obviously problematic place. That changed a little the summer I got stung in the palm by a wasp in my office. I got a little more aggressive about getting them away from the house.

This year, the first nest that had to go was in the kindling bin. It was still very small, and there were only three wasps associated with it. It must have been the queen I watched making it, excreting wood pulp and saliva to make the hexagons. It’s an intricate and fascinating process, and I reverence the creativity and ingenuity of nature exposed by it.

Though I’m glad people don’t make things that way. Ewww.

I wasn’t happy to take them out, but I can’t get stung every time I want to build a fire. I got them in the morning when they were gathered together, and took no pleasure in their twitching end.

Then there was the nest INSIDE the screen door that we found when we had family over. Patty got stung, so I took care of that one right way. Maybe took a little revenge satisfaction with their demise.

Finally, I had to take out the one in the hot tub cover. Getting stung takes away a bit of the pleasure of a soak.

I don’t like having to do this. All this time, there’s been a nest under the deck. Those wasps have not bothered us, so there it stays. I’d rather not go get them, and I hope the season ends before I need to.

5 Crows and a Hawk

/ boz bozeman / 6 Comments

There are five crows that hang out in our yard. I wanted them to be ravens, so I could pretend that Odin was guarding the yard. But the internet deflated this fantasy: they are indeed crows.

I really shouldn’t want more. They are GREAT crows. One day, I was sitting in the backyard, and they were perched in the trees along the property border. They began cawing, and then one took off, flew down steeply, banked around the power line pole, then accelerated back up to the starting branch.

This was cool, but then one by one they each did the same thing. The waiting crows cawed loudly, as if encouraging their mate. As they continued to fly around the pole, it was clear that they were playing. Not only that, it seemed like this was a type of drill, practicing maneuvers that would be useful in the wild. 

Crows call a challenge
Leap, rise, stoop into a dive
Tilt, twist, bend their path
Beat down wings to rise again
Cawing cheers upon return

I return to this remarkable memory whenever I see them. I thought this would always be the high point, until last week. That’s when I saw one of the crows and a hawk together. Flying together.

The crow led, the hawk followed, beak almost to the crow’s tailfeathers. At first, I thought the hawk might be chasing the crow away, perhaps from a vulnerable nest. But as they flew, curving, diving, flying into tree shadow and reemerging, it became obvious that they were playing.

Thankfully Patty was there to witness this, or this would have been another of my partly believed strange animal stories. 

The crow and the hawk
Fly aligned, dive together
United by flight
Transcending their barriers
Darting, flapping, rising, one.

The reality of these birds is so much better than my mythological fantasy. Still, I’d like to think Odin would be proud to have them in his real world.

This post is part of a poetry challenge at http://www.tankatuesday.com

Back for TankaTuesday

/ boz bozeman / 14 Comments

Been a while since I posted, but I have been writing! Working on making my novel into episodes, with the goal of publishing on Kindle Vella when it is ready.

The haiku below relate to the work I’ve been doing outdoors in this summers extreme heat. Good to be back on Tanka Tuesday!

In smoldering heat
The black mulch glistens wetly
Sweat soaking my shirt

Hawks cry and circle
I point them to the mole holes
Whose mounds scar the lawn

The sun blazes heat
In the green leaf shade I rest
Leaning on the spade

Back for a challenge

/ boz bozeman / 1 Comment

The form below is called a Renga. The breaks show the different line requirements and syllable counts. More info can be found at tankatuesday.com.

Contrast the hint of 
flowers with the attack of 
weeds. Balance of Spring.

Hints of summer in sunlight
humidity, light and heat.

Then cool like the fall.
Leaves hush instead of rustle,
No hint of winter
Once bare trees are blossoming
Nature's first green is golden.

Eclipse in a Dish

/ boz bozeman / 1 Comment

I failed to get us eclipse glasses. Honestly I didn’t even think about it. We were so caught up in Uconn’s championship run and celebrating our birthdays that it didn’t occur to me to pick up glasses.

I had a solution. Years ago, I was washing dishes during a partial eclipse, and I saw the reflection of the sun in the water. Realizing I could watch the reflection safely, I filled a small dish with water and placed it on the garden window. I was able to “watch” it indirectly. One cool effect is that the depth of water means a layered image: the top image is nearly too bright to look at, but the refracted ones are like shadows, and give a really good sense of the shape of the sun as it is obscured.

This picture is as close as I could get to capturing the effect. The reflection allowed us to enjoy the partial eclipse here, but I’m sure didn’t compare to the total with appropriate lenses.

Here’s the poem I wrote years ago when I discovered this eclipse watching cheat code:

I watch the eclipse 
In a dish 
In the garden window. 

Even reflected 
The light stings my eyes. 

The water is still,  
Deep enough 
To give shape to the sun. 

I tap the rim and the water tilts 
Tipping side to side. 
The sun in a cradle 
Rocking, rippling, warped.