Bev Tappan

Category: Natural World Poems

on plants and other wild things

  • ECUADOR POEMS: THE SPICE OF VARIETY

    THE SPICE OF VARIETY

    In Ecuador platanos are fed to the birds:

    Dozens of hummers, tanagers and such.

    In Ecuador mango juice is savored

    And passion fruit mousse, but not too much.

    Ecuadorians favor grass-fed beef,

    Sea bass, camarones and farm-pond trout.

    Yuca strips dipped in sugar are a treat.

    Espresso they will never do without.

    Ecuador is home to many climates,

    Subtropical and temperate and more,

    Which Andean cloud forests generate:

    It all depends on how far up you go.

    So if you’re feeling tired of deja vu,

    Ecuador is the perfect place for you.

  • ECUADOR POEMS: AT THE RIO COSANGA

    AT THE RIO COSANGA

    We left our San Isidro cabanas

    And stopped at the bridge on the Rio Cosanga

    To search for the elusive yellow duck

    For which we were not to be in luck.

    However, blue swallows sat on a rail

    Preening and flipping their wings and tails,

    Then dipping and swooping in widening arcs

    Snapping up insects above the rocks

    Where the river rushed in a foaming flood

    Fed by the weeping clouds above.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: WHITE LAKE

    WHITE LAKE

    It’s like dipping our paddles in glass

    So clear is the water, so pristine the sand.

    We watch as reflections glide past:

    The pines and the hemlocks in orderly ranks.

    Three loons are reflected as well,

    The mother and father with chick in between.

    Soon they will hear the South call

    And singly take flight to the beckoning sea.

    A migrating monarch drifts by,

    One of an army toward Mexico bound.

    And what is our path, you and I?

    Do we too respond to the warm siren’s sound?

    Or must we accede to the cold,

    Settle down in our comforter blanket of snow?

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: SEPTEMBER MORNING ON THE EXETER

    SEPTEMBER MORNING ON THE EXETER

    In the river today the trees

    Mirror themselves.  As we paddle

    Our kayaks we see double:

    Two trunks, two thatches of branches,

    Two patches of reeds, two blossoms

    Of pickerel weed, two bushes

    Of orange-bespotted jewelweed,

    Two bare and barren wood-peckered

    Skeletal hulks with bony limbs.

    From the dark woods a hoot owl

    Invites us to come on in, come on in.

    Bluejays flit across our bows.

    Wild ducks practice flight patterns.

    The heron is no longer present.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: ENCOUNTERS

    ENCOUNTERS

    When I see the deer in the meadow

    I brake the car to stare.

    They seldom allow us to know

    That they like to forage there

    Unlike the wild turkeys who march

    Their rapidly fattening families

    Into suburban backyards

    Where feeders scatter down seeds.

    A handsome red fox used to score

    Always available dog treats

    At my son-in-law’s front door

    But we’ve learned to limit these

    Handouts to creatures untamed.

    When a moose steps over the wall

    We take the flare gun in hand

    To encourage him not to call.

    When a burly bear knocks on

    The window and breaks down the door

    We know we’ve made him too welcome:

    We know we’ve gone too far.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THOUGHTS ON A HORSESHOE CRAB SHELL

    THOUGHTS ON A HORESHOE CRAB SHELL

    Its carapace lies on the shore

    More ancient than the dinosaur.

    It spawned a hundred thousand roe

    A tasty treat, as Thai folk know,

    And food for heron, gull or tern

    Or any shallow water bird,

    A good arrangement all around

    To hold an overpopulation down.

    Phragmites, called the common reed,

    Can generate a million seeds

    Or send its runners all about

    To crowd its native neighbors out,

    Though grazing cattle can contain

    Its spread and keep the landscape sane.

    The pink wild rose stays in its place

    And does not seek to dominate

    While multiflora roses shoulder

    Their way around, forever bolder.

    What lessons can we humans take

    From other species’ use of space?

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: TODAY’S KAYAK

    TODAY’S KAYAK

    As we put in our three boats

    We feel the first few drops.

    It is too warm for raincoats

    So we push brashly off.

    Across the lily-padded cove

    A hectored heron flies

    Harassed by a persistent crow

    With persecution on his mind.

    The large dark cloud above us

    Then looses its watery freight

    And soon has sprinkled upon us,

    Refreshing on this hot day.

    Undaunted, we paddle onward

    Along the reedy marsh

    Hearing children’s voices behind us

    From the camp whose beach we passed.

    At the island we turn back landward.

    Damp but happy we’ll head homeward.


  • TAMWORTH POEMS: GRATITUDE

    GRATITUDE

    Flame azaleas by the pond,

    Redbud blooms have come and gone.

    A house finch pair are nesting here

    In my blue spruce another year.

    May’s full moon is safely past:

    We’ll put tomatoes out at last.

    Down the lake my kayak arrows;

    Tadpoles swarm within the shallows.

    I thank whatever gods there be

    For good health and longevity.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: BELGIAN DRAFT HORSES

    BELGIAN DRAFT HORSES

    Huge and heavy-hoofed,

    Wide-eyed but placid Pete

    Gives me a curious look

    While slightly shy-eyed Fred

    Stares modestly at the ground.

    Patient, they stolidly stand

    As straps are buckled round,

    Collars and spreaders hitched

    And wagon tongues hooked on.

    Twelve tourists climb aboard.

    Our driver flicks the reins.

    Fred and Pete ease forward

    And then with a powerful trot

    They pull us up and onward

    Until we crest the hill

    And feast our eyes upon

    A long lake filled with isles.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: SPRINGTIME IN THE NOTCHES

    Springtime in the Notches

    We should have known what April fools

    This winter was to make of us.

    It piled the snow up to our roofs

    While Arctic winds assaulted us.

    We looked in vain for signs of spring,

    For daffodils and crocuses,

    But now in May it’s happening:

    The woods are where the action is.

    Below these west-wind-blocking cliffs

    Beneath their blanket of dry leaves

    Shy yellow violets persist

    And Dutchman’s breeches are perceived.

    Where phoebes and song sparrows peck

    The squirrel corn plants its fruity roots.

    Wake robin trillium are on deck.

    Hepatica promises liver cures.

    Dogtooth violets belie their name.

    Spring beauties herald what has come

    At last, unnoticed, unproclaimed,

    Our longed-for time of procreation.

  • TAMWORTH POEM: SPRING FEVER

    SPRING FEVER

    The sap is rising and the stallion rears

    To clap his mighty hoofs upon the mare’s

    Frisky rump, but she whisks away

    As if inviting him to come and play

    And he is game.  Off and away they go.

    It is the season that does stir the blood,

    The time when every river is in flood,

    And my old heart is gladdened by the show.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: SIGNS OF SPRING

    SIGNS OF SPRING

    (with thanks to e e cummings)

    Ice-melt upstream is roiling up the river

    That foams and funnels under the village bridge.

    Two feet of ice on Lake Winnepesaukee

    Is starting to give way at the water’s edge.

    Last week I heard the “cuckoo” of a phoebe

    And tree frogs seeking mates with choral peeps

    Along with “quarking” lately de-iced wood frogs

    And redwinged blackbirds buzzing in the reeds.

    Indeed it is Just spring.  I also hear

    The sound of children laughing in the playground,

    And listening with an attentive inner ear

    The goat-footed balloon man calling me.