Poems that bring nature to life

Project Optimist continues our Biophilia series with two poems from the collection "You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World," which was edited by Ada Limón. Limón is the 24th Poet Laureate of the United States.

The first selection is from St. Paul poet Michael Kleber-Diggs. The poem is dedicated to his goldendoodles, Ziggy and Jasper, and made me think of all the adventures I've had with my dog.

The second piece was one Nora Hertel, Project Optimist executive director, liked by poet José Olivarez. The poem fits perfectly into our Biophilia series.

We hope you enjoy the poems!

-Jen Zettel-Vandenhouten,
Managing Editor, jen@projectoptimist.news

CANINE SUPERPOWERS

Como Park, Woodland Outdoor Classroom — for Ziggy and Jasper

By Michael Kleber-Diggs

We stroll the grounds and stop at every tree,
at every chicken bone, each new coneflower.
Their noses lead to everything we see.

I'd be asleep if it were up to me.
Still slick with dew, this city park seems ours
as we stroll the grounds and stop at every tree.

Perils persist—real possibilities.
I scan the grass for things they can't devour;
their noses notice things that might harm me.

Sometimes we'll spot a fox, surprise a bee,
find trash, broken glass, have a sad encounter
on our daily rounds to check on every tree.

Three times we've come upon wild coyotes,
sensed before seen through canine superpowers.
All of them have smelled what I'm soon to see.

They stare. We stare. There's no anxiety.
Milliseconds transform into hours.
We stroll the grounds to stop at every tree.
Their noses lead to everything I see.

YOU MUST BE PRESENT

By José Olivarez

i say to myself when the what wheres
all up in the how now—trees! i turn

to the trees for relief & they say nah!
don't look at us. you don't even know our names.

you don't even know the difference between
an oak tree & a maple tree. it's true:

my relationship with (love) (nature) (money)
(fill in the blank) is like my relationship to weather—

i only see it when it's pouring on my head.
i'm sorry to the trees i grew up with.

i didn't ask. i never learned. or even wondered (about their names).
(their families) (their longings) i only dreamed of (me)

climbing onto their shoulders. honestly, i was a ladybug
to them—only heavier & more annoying. those trees i grew up with

were generations older than me. they were practiced
at living in a way i will never understand & all i could imagine

was the view from their crown. oak trees. they were oak trees
with their own history of migration. rooted in calumet city

like me. if i asked them for answers, i wouldn't have understood:
sunlight. water. sunlight. water. sunlight. water.

The poems are part of the collection "You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World," edited and introduced by Ada Limón, 24th Poet Laureate of the United States. The poems are reprinted with permission from Milkweed Editions.

This piece is part of our Biophilia series about nature and design, and it's supported by a grant from Arts Midwest. Learn more here.