Mary Lee has the round-up and we Inklings are posting Catherine’s challenge.
Robin Wall Kimmerer teaches us that “It’s a sign of respect and connection to learn the name of someone else, a sign of disrespect to ignore it…Learning the names of plants and animals is a powerful act of support for them. When we learn their names and their gifts, it opens the door to reciprocity.” Look closely at the flowers, birds, trees, or other natural features in your neighborhood (or if you’re traveling, a new-to-you species) and write a poem about your chosen species. Free choice of format.
Catherine’s challenge for August
I wrote a poem in July. One of those poems that comes out while walking. As I’m sure you’ve heard, Louisiana is experiencing our hottest summer in history. Who knew this was going to happen? Duh, everybody. I just hope the meteorologist who said the extreme heat is keeping the hurricanes away is right, but it’s probably not. The Gulf will heat up and get angry soon enough.
For now I am listening to endless cicadas during the day and tree frogs through the night. And because we haven’t had rain, I’m watering, watering, watering. The good news is sunflowers are blooming in my butterfly garden.
When in July
When in July, the cicadas buzz all day, when tree frogs near the bayou peep through the night, when crepe myrtles brighten sky with pink and pink and pink, when I walk alone and visit the old oak tree leaning toward the ground inviting me to join her in homage to this unceasing humid heat that calls like the cicadas to our spirits to play like children play running through sprinklers, spreading arms wide like dragonfly wings, then July leaves us with sunflower-smiles.
August is for the Sealy Challenge: reading a poetry book each day. Mary Lee shared her list for the first few days. Here’s mine: Day 1: Mary Oliver: A Thousand Mornings (I’ve read this one before and it’s a comfort read.) Day 2: Pádraig Ó Tuama: Poetry Unbound (Reading a chapter a night) Day 3: Jim Kacian: Long After (This is a visual haiku masterpiece!)
sunflower smiles! That is the best…ending to this poem. So many wonderful and sensual images in this poem. I kinda miss July now. I start school on Monday. sigh.
Lovely vision, Margaret. I am so entranced by your descriptions of your environment that I know I must travel southward one day. I see “sunflower smiles” close by, at the Chicago Botanic Garden, but not quite just outside. I also hear these gals and fellows:
One red-winged blackbird
in sunlight with half-throated
calls to distant friends:
Won’t you join in?
Together we will
make a racket-full chorus
to make the two-leggeds
cover their heads!
I love your summer neighborhood poem, especially knowing that we’re listening to the same songs under the same moon: cicadas/locusts during the day and crickets, tree crickets, and katydids at night (not so many tree frogs in Ohio).
Thank you for the link to Long After. (Insert mind-blown emoji here.) I’ll be coming back to that later when I have time to immerse myself. Wow.
Thank you for bringing us along on your July walk, Margaret. Here in Connecticut, the cicadas don’t really get started until August, but because of all the rain we’ve had, the tree frogs are making a joyous racket every night. Your “sunflower smiles” is perfection.
Margaret, I am partial to the sunflower smiles, just like
many others who commented. I also like these lines – “when tree frogs near the bayou
peep through the night,” very much. Nature is an amazing inspiration. Thank you for sharing this.
Margaret, wow, such a peaceful and beautiful poem. (Though I certainly appreciate the excessive heat warnings in the beauty.) I can see the trees dotting your horizon in these beautiful lines:
“when crepe myrtles brighten sky
with pink and pink and pink”
I think my favourite line of this is the ‘pink and pink and pink’ – it just speaks of so much colour and joy. But then, ‘running through sprinklers’ takes me back – and those sunflower smiles are sunshine and happiness. Lovely, Margaret.
You’ve found such joy in that heavy heat! Thanks for sharing your sunflower smiles, Margaret. Though my fave line, I think, is “with pink and pink and pink”!
It’s too early for our cicada & I haven’t heard treefrogs very often, never here, so I love that you took us along on your walk in your poem. Wishing you some rain as we so often do! And a nicer school day Monday!
I’m sorry about your colleague’s passing, Margaret. That sounds like a dispiriting way to start the year. I hope all the poetry lifts you up. Thanks for the link to Long After.
I’m enamored of your “When…” lines, especially
“when crepe myrtles brighten sky
with pink and pink and pink,”
and the leaning down with the tree in homage.
Sending you good energy for a new school year, especially after your dispiriting beginning!
My response to the challenge was also inspired by morning walks. I love all the naming in your poem, especially since I’ve so recently admired the crepe myrtle in person. I also love the joyfulness of your poem (sunflower smiles!)– a celebration of all of July’s bounty.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 
sunflower smiles! That is the best…ending to this poem. So many wonderful and sensual images in this poem. I kinda miss July now. I start school on Monday. sigh.
Sighing. I started today. We all were released to go to our colleague’s funeral. Not a great way to start.
Lovely vision, Margaret. I am so entranced by your descriptions of your environment that I know I must travel southward one day. I see “sunflower smiles” close by, at the Chicago Botanic Garden, but not quite just outside. I also hear these gals and fellows:
One red-winged blackbird
in sunlight with half-throated
calls to distant friends:
Won’t you join in?
Together we will
make a racket-full chorus
to make the two-leggeds
cover their heads!
Draft, Carol Coven Grannick
The red-winged blackbird’s call means summer is here.
Yay for poems that come from walking! These sunflower smiles will stay with me on this very rainy morning in Alabama! xo
Send the rain westward please!
I love your summer neighborhood poem, especially knowing that we’re listening to the same songs under the same moon: cicadas/locusts during the day and crickets, tree crickets, and katydids at night (not so many tree frogs in Ohio).
Thank you for the link to Long After. (Insert mind-blown emoji here.) I’ll be coming back to that later when I have time to immerse myself. Wow.
Thank you for bringing us along on your July walk, Margaret. Here in Connecticut, the cicadas don’t really get started until August, but because of all the rain we’ve had, the tree frogs are making a joyous racket every night. Your “sunflower smiles” is perfection.
Margaret, your poem is an amazing example of making lemonade from lemons! Joyful noise indeed!
Margaret, I am partial to the sunflower smiles, just like
many others who commented. I also like these lines – “when tree frogs near the bayou
peep through the night,” very much. Nature is an amazing inspiration. Thank you for sharing this.
Love “pink and pink and pink”. And hooray for dragonfly wings and sunflower smiles. I hope you get drought relief soon.
Margaret, wow, such a peaceful and beautiful poem. (Though I certainly appreciate the excessive heat warnings in the beauty.) I can see the trees dotting your horizon in these beautiful lines:
“when crepe myrtles brighten sky
with pink and pink and pink”
I think my favourite line of this is the ‘pink and pink and pink’ – it just speaks of so much colour and joy. But then, ‘running through sprinklers’ takes me back – and those sunflower smiles are sunshine and happiness. Lovely, Margaret.
I could practically hear the sounds as I read this, Margaret. I love the joyful ending.
Hooray for Sunflowers, and smiles, and dragonfly wings, and this lovely image-filled poem you’ve taken us on, thanks Margaret! Hope it cools a bit…
You’ve found such joy in that heavy heat! Thanks for sharing your sunflower smiles, Margaret. Though my fave line, I think, is “with pink and pink and pink”!
Yahoo! Another Sealey Challenge participant! So many good books in your reads this week.
It’s too early for our cicada & I haven’t heard treefrogs very often, never here, so I love that you took us along on your walk in your poem. Wishing you some rain as we so often do! And a nicer school day Monday!
I’m sorry about your colleague’s passing, Margaret. That sounds like a dispiriting way to start the year. I hope all the poetry lifts you up. Thanks for the link to Long After.
I’m enamored of your “When…” lines, especially
“when crepe myrtles brighten sky
with pink and pink and pink,”
and the leaning down with the tree in homage.
Sending you good energy for a new school year, especially after your dispiriting beginning!
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My response to the challenge was also inspired by morning walks. I love all the naming in your poem, especially since I’ve so recently admired the crepe myrtle in person. I also love the joyfulness of your poem (sunflower smiles!)– a celebration of all of July’s bounty.