I Blog Poetry and Prose

Nature Journaling in the City

Jalál (Glory), 19 ‘Ilm (Knowledge) 175 B.E. - Saturday, November 3, 2018

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The Creation Saturday prompt: I recently took a class in Nature Journaling. For this Creation Saturday, find a place to sit outdoors (or at a window) and observe what your see, feel, smell, and hear. Record your observations in any form you choose (poem, monologue, short story, drawing, personification of the animal you're watching, etc)

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Nature Journaling in the City

Watching nature in my section of Las Vegas consist of opening my front door and watching the pigeons scavenge in the street, along the curb. In fall and winter, stepping outside, looking up at Mount Charlestons, and commenting on whether or not it snowed last night. On windy days, I can listen to the palm fronds whispering or the palm tree beards rustling. When it rains, I listen to the splat of rain drops on the blacktop street or cement sidewalk. All yearlong there are sparrows, pigeons, and blackbirds nesting in the oak, pine, olive, and palm trees.

Pigeons scavenging
trying to survive in the city
on the discards of civilization.

I looked out my door this morning,
and went outside to look up at Mount Charleston.

No snow on The Mountain,
no pigeons scavenging in the street,
no wind caressing the trees,
and no humans awake.

Somewhere a dog backs:
I miss the house on Bracken Avenue,
with its grassy backyard,
oleanders,
half dead elm tree,
dying pine tree,
and the neighbors oak tree.

I miss
its poetic inspiration,
as I reread "Summer Scene".

Summer Scene:
Written when Mom and I lived
on Bracken Avenue

White blossoms are caressed by summer's wind,
Dancing through green oleander limbs.

Moved by the zephyr's invisible hand,
Litter migrates across verdant land.

Stroked by the wind,
Green leaves dance on an oak's brown limbs.

Like the call of an ancient bird,
The buzz of propellers can be heard.

A lizard on the stone wall's gray rim,
Tests summer's scent laden wind.

A jet engines soothing roar,
Across the cloud scattered sky soars.

Planted on the stone wills rim,
Wrought iron buds stand tall in the wind.

From beyond the iron rimmed stone wall,
Insects sing their mating call.

A dead leaf is carried by the wind,
From an elm tree's half-living limbs.