Field Blackberry, Wood Sorrel, Cranes Beak, Field Madder, Jewelweed, Tulip Poplar.

​As published in the spring issue of The Avocet.
 
Birdsong
 
The silent forest comes alive with birdsong.
A chorus of Blue Jays erupts to celebrate the bounty.
Antiphonal to highway noise, they sing.
A red bandana might attract a hummingbird.
 
I sit beneath an ancient oak where
A red bandana might attract a hummingbird.
Alone, I contemplate the flowing water.
The silent forest comes alive with birdsong.
 
I sit beneath an ancient oak where
A woodland stream murmurs reassurance.
Alone, I contemplate the flowing water.
A chorus of Blue Jays erupts to celebrate the bounty.
 
A woodland stream murmurs reassurance.
I have never heard them so energetic before.
Car horns and humming tires reverberate from the expressway.
Antiphonal to highway noise, they sing.
 
They sing as if this were the first day of birdsong.
Woodpeckers provide percussion with their beaks.
Chickadees and Titmice celebrate with melodies.
A red bandana might attract a hummingbird.
 
Copies of the bound journal have sold out. I can send you a pdf of the journal.
If you want one, please contact me by email.
Ray Zimmerman - Chattanooga, TN – znaturalist (at) yahoo.com

These poems about trees appeared in the Weekly Avocet. The photo from Fall Creek Falls State Park did not. 

“I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.” – Joyce Kilmer, “Trees.”
 
His full name was Alfred Joyce Kilmer He had published five books and fathered five children when he deployed to Europe at age 31. He was killed at the Second Battle of the Marne and didn’t come home. His poem “Trees” is his most celebrated work.
 
Joyce-Kilmer Slickrock Wilderness


A winded old man, I climbed as high as I could.
I saw the forest primeval, never cut Tulip Trees.
The state tree of Tennessee, the Tulip Poplar
in an open forest, with space between trunks.
But here they are in North Carolina.
 
They are a favorite tree of lumbermen,
who may decry  the waste of trees uncut,
but I will celebrate this small section of
the Nantahala Forest set aside for generations.
 
I never made it to the hemlock grove,
equally ancient but giving way
before the onslaught of the woolly adelgid.
Venerable old giants are slain by aphids.
Foresters cut the dead to save the living
at least in this case, and I’m glad I didn’t go.
 
I celebrate the Tulip Trees of my neighborhood.
They flower each year, green blossoms tipped
with golden red and favored by honeybees.
I remember an old beekeeper who called me
every year, “and how are the Tulip Poplars this year?
 
Ray Zimmerman, Chattanooga, Tennessee znaturalist(at)yahoo.com
Warren Woods
 
Nestled among the Michigan dunes
escaping the doom of axe and saw,
the ancient beeches and maples stood,
too large to reach around.
 
One giant that fell left roots, reaching
upward, revealed a patch of sand.
They sent roots sideways in soil that
should never have grown them.
 
Yet there they were,
giants among the dunes.
I was young then, and
I hope they still survive.
 
Ray Zimmerman, Chattanooga, Tennessee znaturalist(at)yahoo.com
A Haiku
 
Killed by fungus
Mature Chestnut trees are gone
I’d like to see one
 
Ray Zimmerman, Chattanooga, Tennessee znaturalist(at)yahoo.com
 
A Tanka
 
Virginia to Florida
Longleaf pines growing
Outward to Texas
A few uncut stands remain
To house the gopher tortoise
Ray Zimmerman, Chattanooga, Tennessee znaturalist(at)yahoo.com


The weekly Avocet is distributed free by email. Message me if you would like subscription information. It is a journal of nature poetry. 
​I have a recent memoir piece in Waxing and Waning https://www.waxingandwaning.org/issue-11/how-i-became-a-poet-by-ray-zimmerman-_cnf_/ and an article in The Hellbender Press.
https://hellbenderpress.org/news/wnc-creek-snorkels. 

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