Ann Arbor Review

INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Steve Barfield
Fahredin Shehu
Karyn M. Bruce
Richard Gartee
Running Cub
Dejoy Robillard
Yuan Hongri
Lasz.o Slomovits
Silvia Scheibli
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Gale Acuff
Elisavietta Ritchie
Shutta Crum
Patty Dickson Pieczka

Duane Locke
Jennifer Burd
Aneek Chatterjee
Robert Nisbet
Robert Penick

Alex Ferde
Solomon Musa Haruna

Violeta Allmuca
Fred Wolven
 


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2020 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
------------------------------------------------

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 54 years all together....

 

-------------------------------
staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

 

Submissions via e-mail:

poetfred@att.net

 

ONCE I HEARD AN UNCLE TALKING
ABOUT THE HUBBLE TELASCOPE


No doubt my understanding of just
whatís involved in the Dark Energy
forces will take me a might longer
than it did to grasp the deepening
feelings I now am able to associate
with the flora and the living creatures
peopling the fields, streams, and woods
of my Michigan childhood retreats.

You capture the very essence of a single
Katydid or the ever dripping beauty of
the White Peacock Butterfly in photo
after photo, your images drawing up
close, so near as to give me promise
that one day I may reach out and touch
these artfully crafted museum quality
figures of Natureís best, portraying
much the hope of such a canvas
as Hicksí The Peaceable Kingdom
and its animals, domestic and wild,
in real harmony with the likes of us.

The world of your living photos
brings me life, helping open my
pores, my veins filling with clean
rivers of oxygen as impulses move,
circulating, recycling and expand all
I need to view the nature of spirit
beings, our counterparts in fields,
in trees and grasses.  And while I so
work I enter deeper and deeper into
your view of painting, searching for
your improved definition of such
use.  But, my path isnít yours, for
even if I could would I be able to
enter far enough into the caves you
explore, the rivers you wade in, or
Natureís highways which you follow.

Well, having relocated, I have
different marshlands, an occasional
glen, or fresh waters to step into,
and I am doing so.  When I have
the opportunity to stop and observe
a sunflower up close, I will nearly
interrupt whatever Iím about.  The
natural spirals within, set, as they are.

When I see ants crossing the path, each,
time I watch a heron settle alongside
the pond waters, and every chance I have
to notice an eagle or hawk alight from
the tall pines.  If this be part definition,
part vision, part reality, I canít help but
look forward to more breathing, a reason
for being, this gives me meaning, so I
listen carefully wanting to hear an aunt
singing a young cousin to sleep as I listen
to her I watch the growing moonlight
softly removing shadows from trees.


Running Cub, Everglades, Florida
              

   


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