Shining Horns*
Nature Writing at Raven Chronicles Online
3 poems by Tim McNulty
Moon, Horses, and Groundfog
A corner of dream opened
into night-soft ring
of the bell mare, close
to the open shelter where I slept.
A low fog had moved up from the river,
and the dark shapes of horses grazed
knee-deep in silvery light.
In the hazy reach between sleep
and waking,
I was among them, tasting the fog
that was our ground. It was cool,
and smelled of leafmulch,
of dampened ash,
and the slow breath of a glacier.
The moon stood still in a spruce tree,
and the sound of the river
moved away over polished stones.
I was midpoint on a journey
I had forgotten I'd begun,
and the dust of winter stars
covered the empty shoes beside me.
Tim McNulty
from In Blue Mountain Dusk, Broken Moon Press, 1992
One for the Dipper (Cinclus mexicanus)
To be as sure
& light-footed among rapids
as the dipper:
slate-gray puff
of feather & song
twiglike dusky feet
dip, dip, on a sudsing rock
cheeps off upstream
no higher than spray...
one yesterday --
drinking delicate little
beakfuls
from a boulder
mid-Dungeness
wild with three weeks rain.
Tim McNulty
Tropical Sunlight
Smoke from wildfires fills the valleys,
and a high veil of cirrus
dampens the morning sun.
Then a gift from Costa Rican forests --
Townsend's warbler drops by.
Sunlit yellow face and breast,
dark Zorro-like mask,
quickly, neatly, shakes down
a subalpine fir crown
for bugs,
cleans his beak madly on a limb,
and takes leave south
across the Skagit,
heading back.
From the lookout steps,
three thousand miles north,
I'm warmed through.
Tim McNulty
from Through High Still Air, Pleasure Boat Studio, 2005