Author: Tim Gels

“How do you know it’s a black locust?”

It was a sincere question
and
honestly
I had to think
for a few seconds 
before I answered.

The easy answer
the one I didn’t give
was it couldn’t be anything else.

With those compound leaves
it wasn’t any of the oaks
or maples
redbud was out of the question
as was beech
and tulip poplar.

With those leaflets
as small and numerous as they were
ash, hickory
box elder
buckeye and even pecan
were off the list.

But on that late April morning
it was more than just 
seeing what it wasn’t

It was seeing what it had to be.

With those dangling clusters 
of wondrous white flowers
laden with nectar, pollen,
and bumble bees

It had to be a black locust.
It couldn’t be anything else.

“It’s the flowers,”
I said with a smile.

Just a note:

I know and understand that most people don’t know how to identify the trees around them.  Or the flowers, shrubs, and grasses.  There are so many I don’t know . . . lots more than I do. 

In the early grades, we often use what’s known as “environmental print” to help students to read.  Environmental print is helpful because almost everyone, even children at a young age, can recognize it — it’s ubiquitous and you know it at a glance.  

When I learn with people — especially young people — outdoors, it’s my hope that they would develop a familiarity with the world around them.  Much like recognizing the M that is the golden arches, it would be great if, at a glance, we could recognize the plants and animals around us.  

To paraphrase Aldo Leopold, we can’t love what we don’t know.

Man vs. nature
I would write in the margins
back when I was made
to do such things

I remember that
along with man vs. man 
and man vs. self
— conflict

Now, some forty years later
as I walk the trails
and see 
what I see

I wonder why
I never wrote
nature vs. man
I wonder why

back when I was made
to do such things

—–

Just a note: I understand we more-accurately say character instead of man these days.  This poem takes me back to the 70s.  A lot of things were different back then. (And a lot of things weren’t.)

I think of greenbriar
in the early months of spring
their tendrils waving —
like me, they look for something
to bring them up to the light

Flitting in and out
of the brush beside the trail
the small bird beckons
entreating me to follow
where it knows I cannot go

I’m faced with a choice
two paths through the springtime wood
both calling to me —
I know, yes, I must decide
or simply stand there alone

As I step foot on the trail
a solitary bird
sounds the alarm
The woods close around me
They know I am here

The storm was still more than twelve hours out
but the woods hung still and silent.
There was no rustling of leaves
and the birds were voiceless.
Yet I could still hear
in my left ear
mosquito’s
whispered
buzz.

My name is Tim, and I don’t know everything.

Isn’t that how it goes?  Admitting one’s problem so it’s possible to move on from it?  I don’t know for sure, after all: I just said I don’t know everything.

That said, in this case, I think I’m getting a clue. Just a clue, but it’s a start.

Okay, okay, okay…I used to think writing a haiku was easy.

Whew.

I wanted to write a few more paragraphs to build a bit of suspense and a touch of tension, but I had to just get it off my chest.  I couldn’t wait any longer.

I used to think writing haiku was easy.  I used to think haiku was the stuff of school poetry month in the early elementary grades.  I used to think 5-7-5…how hard can it be?  

I was wrong.  There’s a lot more to it, and I’m lovin’ it.

Before I go further, in my defense, it can be easy:

I’m just sitting here
looking at the cursor flash
wondering what’s next

The third line was the toughest of the three, but most of the difficulty came with deciding whether or not “wondering” had two syllables or three.  I deferred to Mirriam Webster and went with three, despite the fact that I usually say, “won-dring.”

Instead of “easy,” though, let’s go with “accessible.”  Because it is.  The example I just shared took me about a minute to write (“And it shows,” you whisper.) This morning my wife and I stood in the kitchen trying to come up with a haiku on the subject of rhyming with orange. We weren’t creating high art, but we were having fun. Poetry is supposed to be like that: fun!

Getting back to haiku, though: I still don’t know everything.  Not even close.  But over the past few weeks of National Poetry Month, I’ve read a lot of wonderful haiku, and I’ve learned a lot about the form.  I’ve even posted a few of my own, along with a few tankas, a skinny, a nonet or two, a haibun, and some free verse poetry. 

I’ll continue to learn, and I’ll continue to write.  To those of you who have served as mentors for my efforts, thank you!  

Thank you to the folks at Two Writing Teachers for hosting the Slice of Life Story Challenge! If you’ve not seen it, check it out at https://twowritingteachers.org

It doesn’t even have to be 5-7-5? Mind blown.