My response poems to Dungy’s TROPHIC CASCADE contain some climate anger. But sprinkled among these are some forays into personal experiences (that have nothing to do with climate). Part of this exercise has been to let the prompts lead me wherever it is they want to go.
Here are my poems from April 15 through April 17.
Earlier poems inspired by her book SOIL: The Story of a Black Mother’s Garden can be found at the links below.
Find April 12 through April 14 here.
Find April 8 through April 11 here.
Find April 3 through April 7 here.
Find April 1 and 2 here.
April 23, 2024
“we didn’t know it would happen/this soon”
corals die
oceans rise
temps high
people sigh
end is nigh
still we buy
mothers cry
carcass flies
caring guise
tell ourselves lies
the ostrich doesn’t fly
don’t ask why
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
from the poem “oh my dear ones”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 21, 2024
“Ask me if I speak for the snail and I will tell you I speak for the snail. I speak of…”
Ask me if I speak for the snake and I will tell you
I speak for the snake.
I speak of dessicated diamond ghosts
and body-to-dirt,
of suburban skirt desperation
depleted dreams to bake in sunshine unbothered.
I speak for murderous mornings,
survival compels the raven to leave the pas de deux,
dive for a fair share.
Ask me what I know of hunger and I will speak of the hounds muzzle,
brokenness dripping in beads
mistakes the stream
for relief and finds
only an empty hand.
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
following the form of “Characteristics of Life,” from TROPHIC CASCADE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 19, 2024
There is so much time in the world. How many ways can it be divided?
search the calendar for purpose
days or hours
minutes or months
a glacier groans its way home
a fjord fills
drip-drip mist burns bare arms
mosquitos bite
how did we get here?
ages collapse
father becomes son
you hide behind a memory
claim your pain
it will remain unshared
how else can I care
but for the time
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
you can read the full poem here:
https://www.bostonreview.net/articles/camille-t-dungy-natural-history/
April 22, 2024
“What I know I cannot say”
a bulb bursts
squirrely roots
thread deep
tangle blindly
scratching soil
till one sprout and another and another
push
and shove
to the surface
gasping
yet the daffodil waits patient inside
determined her stem will stand strong
in winter’s last wind
no complaint the cold
no criticism those who do not come
to see her
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 20, 2024
“There are these moments of permission”
starlings simply flow
moments of murmuration
no apologies
cheers for the earthworm
tastes sunshine after spring rains
emerges unclothed
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 18, 2024
Mom called tonight. Just to hear my voice.
from the deep quiet night
where dreams steep
you ask softly how are you
from behind a gray-green tree
you of stolid brown bark
under a moon-silvered forest floor
I hear you in stillness
talk to me he says
on a southwest highway unfurling
from the windshield
spattered bugs, desert heat
wrapping us to vinyl
I just like hearing your voice
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Gosh! There’s so much here to love. “cheers for the earthworm” YES!