the moment, and change

 

a future that cannot be anticipated

the world washes over us,

with so much happening every day

that it is hard to keep on our feet while in the torrent,

I love to hold myself still enough

to look up, to look around,

to chronicle enough of the moments I live

to see them, to appreciate them,

to hold this moment that will be gone way too soon,

for example, the creek by our mountain cabin holds to its channels,

but willy-nilly reconfigures its rocks,

as climate change releases high water all too often,

I had just reconciled myself

to the disappearance of some rapids by the cabin,

and the concurrent celebration of a new waterfall just upstream,

and then, a couple of months later,

high water tumbles half of the holding rocks downstream,

I need to write a poem like this,

to tread water for awhile,

though the current rushes powerfully

toward a future we can’t quite anticipate well,

I hope the roar I hear is not a waterfall that we cannot survive,

for now, though,

I want to hold and appreciate this moment.

by Henry H. Walker

October 8, ‘21

a would-be dictator

our democracy needs our support

the historian in me cautions my certitude

that our institutions can hold,

despite the furious self-centeredness and hate

that fuel social media and too large a chunk of our fellows:

a cousin repeats a Facebook entry

that bemoans Biden’s administration,

as if his predecessor’s failings were not emphatically greater:

the deaths by Covid,

the swelling of the national debt,

the moral repugnancy of his working to deny choice

to people of the cities,

to people of color,

to people who want to join our country,

our parents’ generation, often called “The Greatest Generation,” 

fought for democracy and against autocracy, against dictatorships,

I fear what they would think of our politics today,

with so many now smitten with a would-be dictator.

by Henry H. Walker

October 13, ‘21

nature not yet writes

 my chalkboard, and nature

I have a chalkboard in my classroom,

the blank green painted rectangle

draws kids to pick up chalk and express themselves,

I am now in my beloved Smokies,

I am not yet seeing where I am for its reality,

so far it is a blank slate

upon which my thoughts dance,

I hope the morning shocks me back into seeing

the lessons and the beauty of what is before me,

that now, here, with its own past and future,

and not the past and future of my own life

that is still so with me this evening.

by Henry H. Walker

September 30, ‘21

checked-off?

 

from the threadbare to the black bear

the forest in early fall has a threadbare look to it,

the structure beneath worn and showing,

the warm layers of billowing green have felt winter coming,

yellow starts to spread, like gray hair on a person,

and the leaf cover thins, leaves start to fall

and cover parts of the trail like senior moments,

loss not there completely, but tinging us with what’s coming,

even the naked white oak acorns on the trail

express their bounty as if honoring the sun,

late morning we hike hard halfway up the valley

in hopes to watch wild bears feast on the extravagance 

the oaks gives to the future of the forest,

for half an hour we stop and watch one yearling

forage at the side of the road,

finding one meal out of the many he needs,

above him on the hill, we enjoy some big bears

climb the lower trunks of large trees,

2-3 cubs hope to follow them up,

though often not knowing which tree mama went up,

straight up above us, a large bear hovers precariously

near the top of a white oak,

pulling branches down to where she can get at them,

missed acorns lance through the foliage

to find the ground and sometimes the parked truck,

its driver comes up here every year to savor the bears’ world,

cars on the road slow down into a bear jam,

the slowdown grows to maybe a quarter of a mile

of excited people, ensconced in the cabs 

of their fossil-fueled vehicles,

eagerly snapping and videoing their intersection 

with a world in which humans only count 

as minor annoyance to the bears,

the smart phones in the vehicles seem as ubiquitous as the acorns,

every person I saw sought to hold these moments

on the screen and in the memory our electronics provide,

how much they are touched personally I do not know,

I cannot decide whether I am thrilled

that two worlds intersect for a few minutes

or whether I am shocked again

by how little our species really “gets it,”

are these bears a gateway into ecological awareness

or just things to be checked-off

on a must-do list of sensations to have?

by Henry H. Walker

October 1, ‘21

two bear cultures

 another culture

the bears in the LeConte Creek valley have a culture

they teach and pass down to the next generations:

humans exist, and are annoying,

but are not sources of food or fear,

just like how in big cities

people pass each other and are more background

than actors in the same play, with whom we need to interact,

in my home valley bears regularly forage just by the paved road,

cars slow, stop, move on, smart phones work like mad

to record the bears, who concentrate on eating and exploring:

a wonderful balance of wild animal and domesticated human,

today we hike out of this valley

into another valley, and into another bear culture,

fewer people find their way here

where the road is dirt and rutted, cars a rarity,

we meet a mother bear and two cubs

coming up the old road we hike down,

we don’t fit into their culture, except as potential danger,

so they move back and off the road,

the cubs climb a tree to be safe,

it takes me long minutes fiddling with my camera,

then we resume padding down the way,

one cub quickly hustles down the trunk to get away from us,

we look up, and the other cub

watches us intently from 50 feet up the trunk,

my camera clicks with abandon,

though it’s dark way up there,

and my eyes see better than my lens,

the cub comes down ⅓ of the way,

and pauses as if posing,

even moving enough to let light reveal it more,

the cub is not happy that we are still there,

and makes plaintive complaining noise

that the mother in my wife recognizes as distress,

the photographer in me wants to stay and chronicle more,

but the parent in me elders the photographer,

we leave, and never see this family again today,

we humans need the eldering shock

of how amazing the world without us can be,

a national park, nature conservancy land,

anybody who views their own land as a loan from the future,

help us to enlarge our sense of self,

everyone needs to stand at the foot of a great redwood

and marvel at what the kingdom of plants can express,

today is of bears,

I hope our tomorrows are also of the redwood,

and of any old growth that survives our selfish whims.

by Henry H. Walker

October 2, ‘21

recreation as recreating

 a reboot

unplugged—

one way to describe

a break,

a refreshing,

recreation as recreating,

I have loved being wired to my students:

who they are and how the work of what they do

moves them forward on learning paths that open to them,

I am there to notice, to see, to appreciate, to help,

now they, and I, need to disengage,

to unplug, to shut off the screens,

and not dance, directed, across the keyboards,

the metaphor of rebooting works even better for me,

glitches appear in our operating system,

process slows as the circle spins,

as the blue line pauses in its hopeful march to the right,

the hardware, and the software, need a break, to reboot,

to start again, and find themselves anew,

we do, too, teacher and student alike,

we need a break:

to unplug, to reboot,

to let that of ourselves

below and before our consciousness

work out the kinks, stretch out the needed muscles,

so that we can wake up to a new day

and be ready to take and glory in the next steps forward.

by Henry H. Walker

September 30, ‘21

objective reality, trumped

 

those who will not see

I do not understand

when objective reality has gotten so trumped

that people can die and we don’t see them,

that conspiracy theories make more sense to some than science

that our desire to win politically makes us lose morally,

I lead with my heart,

so I know how much my head needs guidance,

still objective reality calls me first

so that I will not deny what is there

just because I don’t want it to be there,

I don’t like how today’s politics 

help me to understand better great mistakes in the past,

today’s absurdities and denial help me to understand better

Germans who would not see there was a Holocaust taking place,

Romans who wouldn’t see the Empire’s flaws,

any who have seen the tribe as club,

exclusive only to those just like us.

by Henry H. Walker

September 30, ‘21