History, Natural History & the Arts
Gene Ervine grew up in the rainforest in Northwest Washington State. He spent his childhood in the woods, playing in creeks and beaver ponds. He started writing poetry in high school and has kept at it.
In the Ravine
Carpenters Creek
At the far edge
of the creek’s gurgle
sword ferns thrive in the shadows
up the bank in the cool
beneath cedar boughs.
In a piercing shaft of sunlight
a single strand of spider silk gleams,
while a white trillium flashes as shocking
as real love, so delicate and brilliant
in the dark forest gloom.
Getting Better
Stand by a small stream,
creek or rivulet and listen.
Listen how water
finds its way around the stones
or logs lying in shallows.
Though you do not know
the language let it flow
into your mind and soothe.
This in a world that seems
to be flying apart. At that
small stream and with
both feet planted and ears open,
arrive at where you are.
Then, as you move forward
mulling its murmured monologue,
take its blessing with you.