Today's poem is Naming It by Stuart Kestenbaum. It is read by Gibson Fay-LeBlanc.
Naming It
In my favorite Gary Larson cartoon
a crazed man holds an open paint can in one hand,
a dripping brush in the other.
He has painted the word 'dog' on his dog,
'cat' on his cat, 'the house' on his house.
He's labeled the garbage can and even his own
pants and shirt. "Now!" he says, "That
should clear up a few things around here."
Today I may be that man, climbing up
Borestone Mountain, naming as much
as I can on my ascent- Eastern Hemlock,
American Beech, Red-stemmed Feather Moss
Smooth Rock Tripe, Tree Lungwort.
I see Labrador Tea, the tiny shrub
that's part of the rhododendron family,
which I first saw trembling in a cold
early summer wind in Newfoundland last year.
I think that this is the language of forest
and I introduce myself to the flora on my ascent.
But this is not their native tongue. Everything I see
is nameless and connected. Where does
the chaga mushroom begin and the birch bark end?
Where does the fallen fir end and the soil begin?
The spruce roots wrap the metamorphic rocks
and make their own metaphor
telling us that everything holds
something else in its own way.
Underneath, the roots are touching rock and soil,
telling stories in the dark,
conducting chemistry experiments
without exchanging a word.