Three Poems for Howard Swain Nature Preserve and Southeast Land Trust
by Kathryn Millar
Jun, 2021
Feet on Ice
Surely death would ensue should the ice crack and I fall through
Surely in early March, New Hampshire, the ice won’t crack
and I won’t fall through
My first step sends what ifs running through my brain
alone in the preserve
it is me
the frozen pond
and no other humans in sight
I can’t remember the last time I walked on a frozen pond
I hesitate, contemplate
and boldly step out onto the ice
I put weight on one foot, test, and then move the other
Two feet on the ice and a defiant smile comes to my face
I lift my head trusting my feet and look around
Dead tree trunks rising straight up from the pond’s frozen surface
Towering evergreens surrounding the perimeter connecting the pond to the deep blue sky
The sunshine is holding its own
draws me in and warms my imagination
but it cannot warm the bitter wind that bites at all my exposed skin
More footsteps and I see animal tracks crisscross in front of me
More footsteps and I have questions about the beaver dam mid pond
More footsteps and a screeching hawk flies from behind the trees riding high upon the thermals
More footsteps and the ice has developed a layer of slush
My breath catches in my throat
I stand as still as the pines and study my feet on ice
I regain my trust in Mother Nature’s logic
to hold me as I walk on water
an ice world
on borrowed time
Another footstep and I am humbled and emboldened to be defying logic
In awe of the frozen
Something has shifted
Gifts only winter can bring
Hawk Over Head
Out from the tree line it comes
riding the thermals
a dance on the wind
I wish I could tell you what bird it is
its wingspan
its mating habits
and more
but instead of speaking to my head, it speaks to my heart
I pay tribute to the bird
with my arms out wide
accepting the gift
until it is out of sight
I can’t say a bird of prey feels joy
but this simple instinct of wind dancing must be the equivalent
I let my heart soar with it
I close my eyes to bear its joy with mine
Winter Wind
Winter may hide the details of spring
and steal the bounty of summer
But it also reveals horizons beyond the leafless limbs
and sets the stage for wind
Unseen but moving
The canopy swirls in choreographed circles
Burnt brown leaves bound to their branches quake
Tree trunks creak
Winter brings stillness and opens the silence
Wind brings an orchestra of sound
Kathy Millar is currently pursuing her dream to live and work in Maine on a beautiful property where she can write, teach, grow and create as part of a community. She was a middle school teacher for 15 years enriching student lives and giving them voice with authentic poetic expression. She has been a nomadic van dweller for six years and has traveled 49 states in the US (save Hawaii) and is well traveled abroad. Kathy has written poetry across these journeys connecting with land, people, and spirit.
The Southeast Land Trust (seltnh.org) conserves and stewards land for the benefit of people and nature in New Hampshire. SELT serves 52 towns and cities of Rockingham and Strafford counties and has conserved tens of thousands of acres since 1980, including nature preserves, hiking trails, farmland, and scenic vistas. SELT relies on its annual contributing members, committed Board of Directors, and talented staff and volunteers to keep advancing critical conservation initiatives in our region.