An Online Literary Journal for Poetry and Flash

Tag: earth

i am learning to be still

Poetry by Stacie Eirich

i am learning to be still,
to pay attention to each breath, its slow rise and fall,
to feel the soft spring breeze on my skin, its gentle rush and play,
to listen to the song sparrows in the air, cooing and calling
in the bright yellow sunshine of morn.

i am learning to be still,
to watch the dance of the butterflies, their colorful frenzy and flight,
to admire the grace of the bald eagle, silent and watchful from his perch,
to gaze upon the splendor of the mountains, their peaks rising against a vast expanse
in the warm orange glow of afternoon.

i am learning to be still,
to savor the taste of a tender strawberry, sweet and tart,
to let the rain wash over me in ripples, cool and refreshing,
to hear the harmonies of the juncos and thrushes, repeating and resonant
in the waning lavender light of evening.

i am learning to be still,
to seek a path of peace and wonder, intention and reflection,
to find the calm within each moment, blithe and smooth,
to experience the echo of the Earth’s heart, beating and thriving
in the endless blue waves of time.


Stacie Eirich is a writer, singer & library associate. A former English Instructor, she holds a Masters in English Studies from Illinois State University. Her work has appeared in Ariel Chart International Literary Journal, Auroras & Blossoms Anthologies, Scarlet Leaf Review & Potato Soup Journal. She lives near New Orleans with three cats, two kids and one fish (www.stacieeirich.com).

Witch

Poetry by Nancy Byrne Iannucci

I run my fingers through their hair and inhale, tilting slender tillers.
           Our golden strands move together
when the winds speak to us – I understand their talk like the Lakota,
           Shinnecock, and Cherokee, but I’m none of them.
I’m a white woman with a woodland spirit on the prairie.
           I ride foxes and coyotes like stallions.
I high-five queen Anne’s lace cheering from the sidelines.
           I’m Stands with a Fist when the wolves come howling.
I heal myself with witch hazel, lavender, and hawthorn.
           I carry wood to the firepit where my ancestors perished.
I paint my face with their ashes and sing their songs.
           The trees breeze when I dance until their leaves are gone,
and soon, I will molder, too, for I am one with the earth, bound to none.


Nancy Byrne Iannucci is a widely published poet and the author of two chapbooks, Temptation of Wood (Nixes Mate Review, 2018), and Goblin Fruit (Impspired, 2021); she is also a teacher and woodland roamer. Nancy can be found at www.nancybyrneiannucci.com.

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