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Newest Posts
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Salmon River
We sit on the rocks by the river, the alder trees whippling, each leaf pulling in different directions. The water casts its own shadow, billowing like window blinds, and as the wind reaches us we can see its path, lit and flickering atop the water, constellations of cold, white sunlight darting across the green river.…
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Desert Darkness
There’s a certain kind of darkness the desert has, the kind that seems to rise from the ground itself, latticing its way, muted, through the air, and yet you can still see the knotted limbs of the junipers, and the pock-marked openness, the rock fields and buttes, all of it encased in a muffled kind…
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Beginning of Time
Maybe we can still remember the closed-in darkness long ago before we had eyes, and maybe we can remember the sensation of the jolting waters, thick with calcite and aluminum dust, the shallow ocean clicking against our keratin bodies, the dull, brainless consciousness softened into us, our lives dark and endless among the lacy mats…
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What The World Once Was
This is what the world once was, low wind across dimpled grasslands, a warm, bruised sweep musked with far-pressed rain, gall oaks whistling as air falls through them. This is what the world once was, a far, clear view, long to the east, to the blue shoulders of the Gorge, the river tucked there, imperceptible,…
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Spring River
The Willamette River has started to thin at the edges, its murky spring sediment swept downstream, emptied into the great confluence of the Columbia, meandering miles and miles before sinking later into the wide, slow Astoria estuary. And so now, if you look into the shallow waters of the Willamette, right along shoreline, you see…
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Shoulders of the Sun
It is early night. One side of the sky is bleached but halted, waiting for the rose-gold light to reach it, to slowly catch the edges of the kindling, the fibers curdled to a red so dark they are purple; a coagulated flame that simmers low, held steady on the shoulders of the sun.
Oaks against the sky,
ramparts of leaves high-hurled,
staunch to stand and defy,
all the winds of the world.
From “Trees Against The Sky”
by Robert Service
Celebrating Nature
Almost everything I post here on All the Winds of the World uses illustrative language to explore the human connection to nature. Through poetry, prose-poetry, and short pieces, I hope to inspire readers to develop a sense of kinship with the more-than-human world.
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