Some people come to Asylum Lake Preserve for exercise. Some to walk the dog. Some to simply soak in the ever-changing sights of nature. Others come for inspiration. Whether it be artists, writers, or poets the lakes, trees and grasses encourage the muse.
The poems Green by Conrad Hilberry, and At Last Lynn Pattison, are examples of the inspiration nature provides.
Green
No one else can claim it.
Steep slope west of the path,
oaks, maples, dead grape vines
hanging on, and below, in a slant
of sun, my pond scum lake.
A hundred yards of tight valley,
bushes in the water, nothing
flowing in or out. Stalks bend
east, bowing to the wind
in their reedy way. A click
of cricket, or time
passing through. I frighten
a frog. He jumps and swims
slicing the green silence.
On the way back, a haunt
of notes from Jeff's melodion—
no keyboard, just air pressed out,
pulled in, and buttoned down,
music for an August afternoon.
— Conrad Hilbery
At Last
A woodchuck waddles from the thicket
to lunch on young shoots. The marsh rings
with cries of peepers---Easter creatures, a cross
on each tiny back. I want to wind the trunks
of saplings in blue ribbon, hang flags over
the gate. Soon we’ll clean feeders and brew thick syrup
for the hummingbirds eager for bee balm and bleeding
heart. A clutch of turkeys cuts
across the path, males fanning full displays
Under a mat of leaves daffodils nudge up, appraise
the light. I tie prayer scrolls in the sweet gum,
cut woody vines from trees. Soon,
a haze of green in the treetops and soil
softening. Time for wind chimes of hollow bones,
bottles that whistle in the wind. Mayapples
unfurling, Lilies of the Valley rising. Oven birds.
- Lynn Pattison
