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Archive for Nature Poetry

Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 November 1, 2015 

Song

Blue night
and the coyote knows
what happens when you’re not there.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 October 1, 2015 

October

I used to think the land
had something to say to us,
back when wildflowers
would come right up to your hand
as if they were tame.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 September 1, 2015 

Clearing

Because there is the smell of burning grass
tonight, we linger.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 June 1, 2015 

Lights Out

Now the moth can stop
beating his head
hopelessly against the lampshade,
and I can forget about words that won’t come.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 April 1, 2015 

Approach with Boldness

We creak on boardwalks above geothermal pools—
Black Opal, Morning Glory, Emerald Spring.
Clear and bright as cups of Easter dye,
they sputter and hiss to remind us that we stand
atop a caldera heaving molten rock.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 March 1, 2015 

Prayer of the Turtle

Oh, Lord, Most High,
You surely must have thought
I needed permanent protection, and
I do thank you for the intricate
design I am told I wear on my back.
I only wish this house I carry
did not weigh quite so much.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 February 1, 2015 

February

This is the season of sourgrass,
shy, lovely, beside the driveway.
Hanna gathers the stalks in her arms
like so many sheaves of daffodils
across her shoulder, green, gold.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 January 1, 2015 

A Very Little Thing

A very little thing is rolling
down the street at dawn,
some little yellow thing, a lemon,
rolling down the center
of the street from the little
grove just up the hill.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 November 1, 2014 

Assessment

Ninety-five percent of those who read this poem
will experience a sense of wonder. The other
five percent are wondering how to arrive
at this statistic. For evidence is what is needed.

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Posted by Paul J. Willis on
 October 1, 2014 

A Lovely Girl

There is a girl reading on the lawn.
Last week a cypress tree fell where she lies.
Now there is grass, and peace—the tree is gone.
And there’s a girl reading on the lawn.

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