Thirst by Karen Nowviskie

It's in the way the rain falls
in sharp, inexorable drops

until the world is long lines,
stitching sky to earth.

It's in the driving needles
that push hungry fawns to group
and bed beneath the drooping birch.

It's in the urge that makes them
nuzzle sodden earth, returning,

little by little, through a new washed world
in certainty and wonder

in search of tender shoots.

Karen Nowviskie, West Virginia, USA

Blue Heron by Karen Nowviskie

Every year, he returns, the old man,
Solitary, silent.
Just when you've forgotten he exists,
He's in the corner of your eye,
Houdini in grey cape,
Somber, regal, and forbidding.
He appears and we hold our breath,
Whisper to the children,
"Come and see."
A day or two he lingers by the water,
Head down, arms behind his back,
Lost in thought or memory
Of glory in the sun.
Sometimes, his long neck leads
As if he's moving toward the finale
And wherever it is he goes
When he lifts his cape and disappears.




Karen Nowviskie, West Virginia, USA

my cathedral by Karen S. Nowviskie

my cathedral, green
butresses a deep blue southern sky

my cardinal, red
sings hymns that raise

a host of finches, gold


Karen S Nowviskie, West Virginia, USA

Consider the Lilies by Karen S. Nowviskie

Consider now the lilies of the field
And then consider, too, the field itself,

The coarse high grasses wet with rain that catch
Against my calves as I pace the path to the pond.

Consider, too, the dark filled pond, the just passed rain,
The smooth-slipped rocks that line the muddy banks,

The slippery mud that sucks at toes
Of shiny frogs that jump and plop at my approach.

They neither reap nor sow, these lilies nor this field.
These frogs that hop at my approach, kings of this small pool,

They neither reap nor sow. The floating moon,
Only floating, shines up on me as light from some

Unseen deep new world. I must consider then the moon,
This same, riding gently on the ripples of the startled frogs

And glittering jewel-like on the rain stained grass.
I must consider then and hold this moon, this night, this field,

These lilies closed in prayer, these creatures deep.
I must consider what I did not sow and wonder if even Solomon

Could know what it is I reap from this array, what it is I reap
From this deep new world, this bright and shining deep new day.


Karen S. Nowviskie, West Virginia, USA

Summer Night by Karen S. Nowviskie

Taken by an evening chill,
I leave my sun-soaked seat,

Forsaking hummingbirds
That trouble trumpet vines

And bumblebees that startle
At their sudden rise and fall.

Conceding feeders to
The scrabbling squirrels

And serviceberries to
The reign of mockingbirds,

I force my trembling self
To pause as life,

Unshaken by the coming
Of the night,

Grows dark against
The purple evening sky.





Karen Nowviskie, West Virginia, USA