Sun and Moon. In the Effie Kokrine class, Climate Change and Creative Expression, we talked about where the sun and moon are in the sky right now. In Alaska, in winter, the sunrise is always to the south, though, in summer, it can travel nearly a full circuit of the sky northeast to northwest.
So, write a poem that lets the reader know something about where you live, using images of the sun and/or moon. Stay objective–how does the sun reflect off the snow, for example, or what do the pock marks on the moon remind you of. Let the poem take you somewhere else if it wants to.
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Rseponse from Glow
here,
October to December,
spruce hang dark
birches cast no shadow
moose merge invisible
Arctic blue lurks
even at midday.
here,
early January
clamors its arrival
a sliver of sun
a mere morsel
creeps for seconds only
across the kitchen wall.
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My response:
At the kitchen table
sun slants across
my keyboard, warms
my fingers, a subtle energy
on joints so fluid now,
so stiff when I walk
outside, gloves off, to hold
curled fingers to the nose
of the horse whose breath
on my hands keeps cold
from penetrating to bone.
Bone, that tree that muscle
blooms from like the leaves
that carry sunlight to root
and back to bud; that anchor
that holds the horse to ground,
strung with ligament, tendon,
the oval cap of knee; that pedestal
that holds the tank of the body
gurgling with hay and the cage
of ribs that buoys the rider’s
body; that push against the ground,
that leap ahead, mimicking flight.
It starts with sun
on grass, green light
through a blade of brome,
the quick flash and gleam
in summer breezes, the busy
capturing of warmth and light
into stalks and leaves
joyously tall before the mower
passes, then sun-dried, turned,
baled, stacked, opened, spread
chewed by horses
feeding belly and bone,
preparing for flight.
Mattie's Pillow 