For New Year’s Eve, no images, but words
Long ago, my editor at the Packet, and now my dear friend, Ilene Dube, insisted I become a blogger for them.
It was to focus on nature, especially of New Jersey.
But Ilene insisted that those blogs include my poetry.
As co-founder of Princeton’s storied Cool Women Poets, how could I refuse.
Here is one that was always a favorite at our jazz-like readings, in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York and Oregon — “But Wild”.
Of course, this theme was crucial to my Packet blog, and remains so now.
This poem was inspired by experiencing wild rice, 10 to 12 feet tall, which it achieves in one season, at the Abbott Marshlands, with Mary Leck, botanist extraoridinare, who, with her husband (ornithologist extraordinaire) Charlie Leck, put that Marsh on the map, internationally.
I seek a canoe
still on the silk shore
of some broad Minnesota lake
spice on the air
red-gold bittersweet twining
high among lakeside pines
water more green than blue
stiff/supple grasses parting
as we nose our silent way
to that center to which ancestors were led
by Grandfather Sky/Grandmother Moon
we make no sound
in whisper water
every clump of grass
bending in seasonal submission
my paddle enters the lake
noiseless as the sharpest knife
as my partner thrashes grasses
they bend to right/to left
filling his sweet lap
then our entire canoe
with brown black heads of rices
that have never been anything
CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN
August 24, 2001