INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Gerald Clark
Lyn Lifshin
Paul B. Roth
Ndue Ukaj
Anne Babson
Laszlo Slomovits
Qinqin Huang
Duane Locke
Adhar Maheshwari
Shutta Crum
Odimegwu Onwumere
Anthony Seidman
Chris Lord
Running Cub
Amit Parmessur
John F. Buckley &
Martin Otto
Joanie Freeman
Alan Britt
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Sonnet Mondal
Karyn M. Bruce
John Tustin
Jennifer Burd
Michael Gessner &
Daniel Davis
Martin Camps &
Anthony Seidman
Fred Wolven
M. J. Iuppa
John Grochalski
Catherine O'Brien
Joe Milford
Byron Matthews
Joseph Murphy
Dike Okoro
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2012
Fred Wolven
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------
Fred Wolven, editor
Submissions via e-mail:
Listening to the spirits
in early evening
one hears trees moving
their leaves talking
like turtles quietly
sending messages
to lake water friends.
When I was young,
I spent time with my father,
he already become an elder,
as he spoke with
nature's creatures, especially
the water birds along
the lake and the stream.
Growing up in nature as I did
I learned that birds, all of them,
talk to let others
know their location,
a supply of foodstuffs,
and warning of common predators.
Father grew up
learning the languages
of water birds mainly,
and I spent many early mornings
by the lake listening as he
spoke with the regulars,
white and great blue herons,
an egret and an ibis.
The anhinga was too busy
diving to respond.
I was not often sure what
Father said, nor just what those
wildfowl replied, but I saw
their movements and heard
their calls often enough
to realize they were talking
with each other.
Perhaps I will yet learn
to speak more clearly too.
Running Cub, Everglades