Tag Archives: Ursula K. Le Guin

Friday poem: Kinship

Very slowly burning, the big forest tree
stands in the slight hollow of the snow
melted around it by the mild, long
heat of its being and its will to be
root, trunk, branch, leaf, and know
earth dark, sun light, wind touch, bird song.

Rootless and restless and warmblooded, we
blaze in the flare that blinds us to that slow,
tall, fraternal fire of life as strong
now as in the seedling two centuries ago.

by Ursula Le Guin

High Desert — a poem by Ursula K. Le Guin

 

Out here, there is another way to be.

There is a rising brightness in the rock,

a singing in the silence of the tree.

Something is always moving, running free,

as quick and still as quail move in a flock.

The hills out here know a hard way to be.

I have to listen for it patiently:

a drumming canter slowing to a walk,

a flutter in the silence of a tree.

The owl’s call from the rimrock changes key.

What door will open to the flicker’s knock?

Out here there is another way to be,

described by the high circles of a hawk

above what hides in silence in the tree.

The cottonwoods in their simplicity

talk softly on, as hidden waters talk,

an almost silent singing in the tree

that says, here is another way to be.

— Ursula K. Le Guin

The 21st October 2018 would have been Ursula’s 89th Birthday.