Photographs of water and woods in northern Wisconsin and Michigan by Catherine Lange and Michael
L. Ruth
With 24 poems by 13 regional poets
Photographs of water and woods in northern Wisconsin and Michigan
by Catherine Lange and Michael L. RuthWith 24 poems by 13 regional poets Chi Studio Press • Ashland, Wisconsin
Chi Studio Press
© 2022 Catherine Lange and Michael L. Ruth
ISBN 978-0-9887764-4-9
Ashland, Wisconsin
langecate@gmail.com • lange-creative.com
mikeruth.media@gmail.com • www.mikeruth.media
The authors of this book, Catherine Lange and Michael L. Ruth, wish to express our gratitude to the 13 poets who generously granted permission for their 24 works, indicated below, to be included in Same Location, Multiple Perspectives. The individual poets whose work appears in this book retain the rights to their creative works.
The following poems were written specifically for this project:
“Lost Creek Falls” by Naomi Cochran
“At Houghton Falls” by Yvette Viets Flaten
“Copper Falls, WI” by Crystal Spring Gibbins
“Response to Betwixt—Houghton Falls (haiku),” “Response to Betwixt—Houghton Falls (tanka),” “Response to Houghton Falls #3 (haiku),” and “Response to Houghton Falls #4 (haiku)” by Carol Good
“August Fog at the Oredock” by Catherine Lange
“The Age of Water Falling” by Howard Paap
“Open Vessel” by Diana Randolph
“Two Domes” and “70-foot Cascade” by Lucy Tyrrell
The following poems had been written previously, and publication notes are included below, if applicable:
“A Taste of Eternity” by Jan Bosman
“Retention Time” and “Labels” appeared in Hugging This Rock (Middle West Press LLC, Johnston, IA, 2017)by Eric Chandler. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Hidden Stuff” by Jan Chronister, first published in Mother Superior (1996). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Little Girl Point” by Jan Chronister
“Bring Me a Dream...” by Naomi Cochran
“Happy the Tree” and “Indescribable” by Mary Louise Peters
“Free Admission Day September—Copper Falls State Park” by Diana Randolph, previously published in Beacons of the Earth & Sky, Paintings & Poetry Inspired by the Natural World by Diana Randolph. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Knowing the Way” by Diana Randolph, previously published in The Water Column by Diane Daulton—in her newsletter and in The Bottom Line News & Views, in the Cable UCC newsletter, included in a project with the National Estuarine Research Reserve, and for a dance collaboration project at UMD. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“River” by Peggy Trojan, first published in River (2020). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“July, Beach in Ashland” by Lucy Tyrrell
This book is dedicated to the waters of Northern Wisconsin and Michigan, whose power brings healing, peace, and beauty to those who come upon its splendor. May you ever flow free, pure, and wild.
“Two Domes” by Lucy Tyrrell
Cascade” by Lucy Tyr rell
by Eric Chandler
Houghton Falls” by Yvette V iets Flaten.
“Response to Houghton Falls #4 (haiku)
“Little Girl Point” by Jan Chronister
“Bring Me a Dream...” by Naomi Cochran
“July, Beach in Ashland” by Lucy Tyrrell
“Indescribable” by Mary Louise Peters
“August Fog at the Oredock” by Catherine Lange .
“The Age of Water Falling” by Howar d Paap . . .
Headwaters of some rivers trickle in narrow channels while some gush freely from lakes hidden in these ancient hills.
Rivers pulse over stones, boulders, golden grasses, splashing on embankments on their journeys, bending, twisting, following natural courses, knowing the way.
Crystal clear water, teeming with life rippling to the Great Lake, flowing like the pure blood that runs through our veins.
Pulsing blood flowing forward, knowing the way, nudging us to breathe, to fill our minds, and to speak with pure heart, nourished from the sources.
Life water, lifeblood.
The urban legend: All the cells in your body are replaced every seven years.
The water in me must turnover faster than seven years. A spoonful of water would have a retention time of maybe just a couple of days. A week? A month? I cross-country ski and my sweat pours out.
I squint at the snow in the late winter sun. I imagine it melting and flowing into Lake Superior past the steelhead and out the flood-changed mouths of the North Shore streams.
A drop of snowmelt taking two hundred years to make it to the Soo.
In his novella A River Runs Through It, Norman Maclean writes that a river “has so many things to say that it is hard to know what it says to each of us.” He also writes that the river he and his family knew best, the Big Blackfoot River in Montana, “runs over rocks from the basement of time” and that “under the rocks are the words.”
“I am haunted,” Maclean concludes his novella, “by waters.”
Catherine Lange, Michael Ruth, and the poets who have contributed to Same Location, Multiple Perspectives are also haunted by waters. As they should be. As we all should be.
The water that pulses “over stones, boulders, golden grasses,” as Diana Randolph writes, is our “lifeblood.” And, as Eric Chandler reminds us, water is constantly turning over in us, constantly renewing us. Without water, we would not be.
In the pages that follow, Catherine, Michael, and their poet friends use photos and words to explore what it is that rivers, and experiences with water more generally, say to each of us.
In doing so, they help to build bridges that we desperately need in these tumultuous times. Bridges that connect us to the stability of rocks from the basement of time and to the lifeblood that courses through each of our veins. Bridges that close the gaps between us, helping us to understand and appreciate the diversity of our perspectives. And, perhaps most importantly, bridges that transport us into the essential beauty of moving water and flowing words.
May you, too, be haunted by these waters, the rocks that give them voice, and the words that lie beneath them.
ALAN BREW is a Professor of English at Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin, and the Executive Director of its Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute.
By Catherine Lange and Michael L. Ruth
We wish to acknowledge that this project would not have happened if we hadn’t met early in 2021 and discovered a mutual joy in photographing places where water flows. We’re grateful to all the stewards who make it possible for anyone to visit Wisconsin’s State Parks like Amnicon Falls and Copper Falls; U.S. Forest Service Recreation Areas like Morgan Falls and St. Peter’s Dome; State Natural Areas like Lost Creek Falls and Houghton Falls; county parks and beaches like Little Girls Point in Ironwood, Michigan; and Ashland, Wisconsin’s shoreline walking trail and redeveloped Oredock.
In wanting to share the photos we created in all these beautiful places, we began planning an exhibit to be held in September 2022 at the Washburn Cultural Center. We want to thank Executive Director Steve Cotherman and Aron Lorber for their assistance with the exhibit.
While designing this book as a companion to the exhibit, the idea occurred to Catherine to ask some poet friends if they’d contribute their work to the project. Those poets shared the request with others. We are humbled and honored to include 23 poems written by these 12 poets: Jan Bosman, Eric Chandler, Jan Chronister, Naomi Cochran, Yvette Viets Flaten, Crystal Spring Gibbins, Carol Good, Howard Paap, Mary Louise Peters, Diana Randolph, Peggy Trojan, and Lucy Tyrrell. Please read about them on page 83. Special thanks to the seven poets who wrote new poems specifically for this project (see page vi). Catherine is grateful a poem of her own can appear here in such excellent company.
We appreciate Alan Brew reviewing our book and offering his insights in the preface.
As you look at the photographs in this book, you may say to yourself, “I’ve been there, too,” and you may have your own photos of some of these places: Amnicon Falls, Copper Falls, Lost Creek Falls, Morgan Falls and St. Peter’s Dome, Houghton Falls, Little Girl Beach, and the Ashland shore and Oredock. You may have written poems about these places. If so, you’ll understand wanting to capture something of your own experience of being in these places where water is moving.
Both Catherine Lange and Michael Ruth have been photographers for over 50 years. They met in the spring of 2021, and both, feeling the burden of the pandemic and its limiting of creative motivation, set out to explore northern Wisconsin together. “The impetus for this project,” says Mike, “was to get outside and fire up our right brains. Just getting outside in nature is healing and freeing. The more places we visited and the more photos we took, the more interesting it became to realize how we see differently.”
Mike began in his college days looking at the illusions and shapes you get in photographic images when you take long exposures. “Taking photographs of cars traveling along a downtown street at night, moving trains, or marathon runners at extreme slow shutter speeds creates incredible shapes and mystery—never truly knowing
what you are getting until the photo is viewed,” says Mike.
“Long exposures of water crashing along a lakeshore or a flowing river conjures up delicate ribbons of movement.” Mike continues, “Many of my photographic images center around water. Why is that? Water is important to us, as the giver of life, sustenance, soothing to the soul, all those heady things. To me it is all that, but there is something else. The visual stimulation I receive from the movement of water is one thing that draws me to the edge of the shore. Much of my work deals with movement of objects. And water is constantly in motion and therefore is always changing. Like a Zen saying I once read: ‘You can’t step in the same river twice.’”
Mike’s works in Same Location, Multiple Perspectives result from images shot with long exposures or combinations of multiple time-lapse exposures of the same scene and using various computer-based enhancements.
“These pieces are not your standard snapshot of a river,” says Mike. The equipment used: Nikon 200 DSLR and Panasonic Lumix DMC-GX85 Mirrorless cameras. The software for photo editing is Photoshop, Lightroom, and Affinity Photo on a Mac Book Pro and Mac Mini.
Cathy has often taken a documentary approach to photography. In 2016 she self-published a book called Why This Place? She interviewed 16 people
about why they live and work in the Chequamegon Bay area in northern Wisconsin and created a photographic environmental portrait of each person in his or her most-loved place in nature. She also photographed each person at home and at work and created photo essays incorporating stories that each person shared.
Cathy’s photos in this exhibit provide both straightforward documents as well as more interpretive renderings of places. “In 2014 I began taking photographs of places of natural beauty and bringing delicate objects to place within the landscapes, says Cathy. “I’ve chosen objects like glass or metal vases, a dancing ceramic figure, a pewter creamer, a golden teapot, Red Wing pottery, and other things that not only fascinate me with their appearance but also carry memories of particular people important to me.” She suggests that adding these unexpected household objects to such outdoor settings may provide the viewer with “a sense of dreamlike perception.”
“As we got to know each other’s styles of imagery,” Mike explains, “I experimented with adding objects to the settings and Cathy began to depart from stopping action to showing motion.” She also began to experiment with multiple exposures merged using Affinity Photo.
Mike and Cathy agree: “Finding a fellow photographer to explore the beauty of the Chequamegon Bay area
has produced what we believe are beautiful, exciting images. When one photographer explores a location with someone who’s not a photographer, often the photographer feels they are neglecting the person with them. When two photographers explore a location, each finds a freedom to be lost in their own work.”
As they organized photographs for their September 2022 exhibit and this book, Cathy sought to define an approach to introducing each section. Being acquainted with several area poets, they decided to invite poets to contribute poems to the project. Those initial poets suggested others who might be interested. Some shared previously published work, and others wrote new poems inspired by photographs presented here.
So, the project, which began as work resulting from two shared perspectives, evolved collaboratively into a presentation of multiple visual and poetic perspectives on these places.
“Sharing the photos in this book,” says Cathy, “is sharing the beauty we saw and captured. We hope the people looking at this book enjoy the images and the poems and get to explore beautiful places of their own.”
Catherine Lange and Michael L. Ruth August 2022
When you sit upon the rocky ledge and gaze at sculpted faces of ancient rocks do you hear them whisper secrets of their formation? Listen closely—they may reveal how lava flowed a billion years ago, creating dark basalt— solid remnants at the upper falls. Beneath the earth, bedrock slowly shifted along a fault line moving upward, giving direction for water to tumble. While flowing to an ancient ocean, silty streams deposited sand at lower falls, creating sandstone and glaciers took a role in forming this unique region.
Mysterious, magical places are found in legends, locations between veils of time and space. Mouths of rivers—intervals between two sources, mist—not fully water or air, bridges—suspended above water and land, and waterfalls—spots between an upper and lower stream.
When you stand at these sacred crossroads, doorways open. Reveal your wishes aloud as you pause to slow your pace, to be still while in motion. Open your senses fully now to fill your vessel then let it overflow, tumbling into the stream of the wider world to splash and join your renewed essence with others, to be an instrument of service and hope.
Everything is made of one hidden stuff.
Ralph Waldo EmersonJust once I’d like to have a day to do nothing but watch hawks and treetop eagles.
Stand by a river when winter melts and Spring flexes her muscles. The Amnicon or Brule would do just fine.
Feel the weight of frozen months rise with the boiling sap steam, my feet once more anchored to brown, soft ground, soup stock where ancient elements swim, hidden stuff of Emerson.
Never pausing, waterfall, over ancient rocks you roar, tumble, and drop while spray rises from your surface and moves toward my face, and I wonder when you began roiling, flowing like eternity— no beginning and no end— just white water racing, cascading, your mist moistening my lips.
In my wild turning I part and join myself, meander a slow circle until I make way over rocks that lift me up to rejoice freedom! in a spray of wet confetti or liquid pearls. When I arrive
in my deep-drop journey, my heart keeps beating— currents don’t end. I live to fracture and fissure glacier, rock, and ice. O to rip through the world!
September—Copper
by Diana RandolphUpon a log bench the young man sits. Oblivious to crowds passing by, his hand flies across the pad of composer’s paper on his lap.
Dabbing music notes on paper, keeping up with melodies in his mind, plucked from the whispering wind and caught from chords carried on golden-orange, sun-dipped leaves, sailing above, then falling to the brown earth. Harmonies heard only by the attuned ears of a songwriter.
Happy the tree high on the hill, next to flat rock baked by strong sun under green capes of neighbor trees, sprayed with white mist from boiling creek swept by strong wind across steep slopes to water soft moss; tickle rough bark. Joy for each leaf that finds her home, delighting trees, blessing the blue, this endless sky, high on this hill. Happy the tree.
First of all, you may miss the sign. TRAIL DRIVE. Pay attention.
My sister knows this country, the feel of footprints pressed in roots before our time. She knows us and brings me here.
The wild creek of our childhood flows through our veins, rushes downhill toward the Lost and the wet tongue of the forest.
The lip of the Falls is a wide grin carved in stone, an open mouth spewing shattered crystal, the curtain-rod of Oz.
We step behind the veil, soak in the mist of this spring-fed sprite, tickle her feet as she wiggles past through the land of Bell.
Tinkling toward the open bog of sweet gale, cat-tail, cotton grass and sedge she finds her two Lost sisters, swirls in the waters of Siskiwit Bay.
Stay on the river now, it will lead you to the sea. Someday I will meet you there with all those we have loved.
Listen, can you hear? The river is singing.
Two Domes
by Lucy Tyrrellatop ancient geologic dome a reach of leaves frames the view as landscape of summer green sweeps away to great lake— its hazy line of blue— beneath expansive dome of clouds in sky
70-foot Cascade
by Lucy Tyrrellwater plummets through a cleft
in jutting angled granite a dazzle of liquid lace
spatters past ferns, bright moss moistens gray and reddish rock
pauses in its descent, pool by pool hurries to finish its fall
Labels by Eric ChandlerThe wind blows and The aspens say Ssshhhhh. The red pines say Ffffffffff. The shower hits. The poplars say Ssshhhhh. Norway pines say Ffffffffff.
Aspens or Poplars. Red pines or Norway pines. Different labels. The same kind of trees. Whatever they’re called, They answer the breeze.
We stand, looking into the dish of mirror water. It shines, unwavering as glass. No stream is rushing to roil it up, no water is pouring over the rocky ledges.
We used to stand under the stream like we were in a shower, my husband says. We swam in that pool.
Today the deep forest around us is silent. And we are silent at the recollection of what was once, but is no more. The strong course of water has changed. The aquifer, the rain fall.
We stand, looking into the dish of mirror water. That’s where I dropped my Franklin half-dollar, my husband says. I never found it... We weren’t supposed to swim out here, anyway.
Around us the forest is silent at this grown boy’s confession. Surreptitious peddling from town, down the dirt road, over the tracks, to the shaded Falls. Deep recess in a boy’s secret life.
We stand still on the rocky ledges above Houghton Falls, discussing how the spring’s snow melt must restore its voice, imagining how the cascade would drop into the pool, picturing that boy rediscovering his lost treasure.
by Carol GoodResponse to Betwixt—Houghton
Falls (haiku)ice-edged blood runs cold betwixt tipped trees lichen rocks infusion of life
Response to Betwixt—Houghton Falls (tanka)
ice-edged blood runs cold betwixt tipped trees lichen rocks infusion of life
when green towers drink deeply through tenacious twisted roots
Response to Houghton Falls #3 (haiku)
tumbled white green brown gradients race with grace so mesmerizing Response to Houghton Falls #4 (haiku)
inviting caress smooth hued stream edged by ice unfrozen motion
Legend says she was lost on her wedding day, wandering in the sacred grove. Her lover emerged from a tree, turned her into green.
Sailors on ships see them weave in and out of sunlight, hear laughter in crashing waves.
Summer afternoon, webbed aluminum lawn chair anchored in river... feet float with minnows inches above sand and silt... eyes on magazine:
“Thirteen Things: Details on Sand”— #12: folk tale origin of myth and song, “Mr. Sandman...” as the tune suddenly streams toward me at full blast, carried by drifters in a slow current of parallel worlds.
Dark form wades
under white banquet of clouds— spread over sand beach, ribbons of distant hills dappled blue-green like the lake. Hock deep, a bay gelding prances, touches gentle ripples with his tail. Barefoot rider astride without saddle wears chin-strapped helmet of metallic blue. Impatient hoof strikes; splashes reach her bare shoulder’s black-ink horse tattoo. She reins in, yet permits thrill of pawing sculpted lake, water-wet dazzle on inland sea horse, smiles timeless joy.
day of cold gray dampness, so little to distinguish morning from afternoon, day from night.
Rain mingles with lake water, sand sifts slowly to the bottom.
Immeasurable progress emptying the river into the sea one dented teaspoon of forward motion after another.
Finally, light. A bird song.
Fog diffuses dawn. Awake, eyes alight, searching— Our path emerges.
Late March—we hear its roar. A waterfall in the time of the annual breakup—winter’s cold grip giving way.
We leave the footpath, carefully step into the unmarked snow amidst the trees, work our way down to its base, to our best vantage point. No one else ever sees it, comes to pay homage.
Our waterfall, my two dogs and I. A big one reaching high amidst the white cedar trees, naked hardwoods, but lasting only a handful of days, tumbling over Lake Superior Country’s snow-covered red sandstone. For a dozen minutes we stand at its foot, its thunderous up-close timpani drums overwhelming us.
The future for the rest of existence. The final merging with all, a last coming together as we flow out to sea.
In some lands deserts growing. Elsewhere, saltwater shorelines giving way, creeks becoming rivers, seaside cities receding. Others see it, birds on high, red-winged blackbirds in the wetlands. The Water Forms, the otters, muskrats and their neighbors know of the ongoing change—the future is underway, is now.
Our unnamed waterfall—the messenger sent ahead. Each March we go to it, witness what is to come. For only five or six days it is here—hidden in the leafless, white woods— where the little creek becomes much more. My dogs and I stand, letting the thunder, the music of water falling overcome us—take us on our way.
This nameless waterfall bespeaks of the future, the transcending union to come. Boundaries give way. Water—the final healer—carries us along. Our hidden waterfall, the fall no one photographs, loud in its pronouncement, achingly short in its tenure—a precursor of the great merging, the resplendent quietness to come.
Catherine Lange earned her B.A. in visual arts from DePaul University in Chicago and completed graduate study in photography at the Institute of Design at Illinois Institute of Technology. She has worked in communications, publishing, and graphic arts in Chicago, New York, and Wisconsin.
In 2006, she broke her tie to urban living, working in Rochester, Minn., which felt like a small town compared to Chicago. After that, she moved to a “really small town” in central Wisconsin and then moved farther north in 2011 to Washburn, Wisc., on Lake Superior’s Chequamegon Bay.
She has served on the board of the Chequamegon Bay Arts Council and edits and designs their quarterly newsletter, Artifacts. She has also served on the Wisconsin Arts Board.
Michael Ruth earned a B.A. in Photography and Cinema from Ohio State, an M.Ed. in Graphic Communications from UW-Stout, and an ED.D. from University of Minnesota. Originally from Columbus, Ohio, leaving home at 13 years of age, he has lived in seven states.
He has held jobs from stable boy, baler of hay, taxi driver, construction worker, account clerk, printer, pit crew for an NHRA team as well as a Land Speed Record motorcycle team, advertising production manager, TV set and graphic designer, and concert rigger, ending up teaching animation and special effects at Minnesota State University Moorhead.
Please contact either photographer to purchase additional copies of this book or to order prints of any of their photographs.
In addition to being an active photographer, graphic designer, editor, painter, and occasional poet, she is also a Reiki Master Teacher and a Tai Chi instructor.
langecate@gmail.com
lange-creative.com
After 28 years living in FargoMoorhead, he retired and moved to Detroit, where he lived for five years working as an events production coordinator. Michael returned to Minnesota in the summer of 2019 where he is busy creating photographic images and Op Art.
mikeruth.media@gmail.com
www.mikeruth.media
JAN HASSELMAN BOSMAN
was raised in Wisconsin, attended UW Madison, and taught in Wisconsin public schools. She is a member of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, The PaperBirch poets of northern Wisconsin, and the Atrocious Poets in Woodstock, IL, where she lives. Her poetry and essays have been printed in the Wisconsin Poets Calendar, The Northwest Herald, and Voices Literary Magazine.
JAN CHRONISTER is a retired English teacher who is grateful she can now spend more time on her own writing and gardening. Her flowers are a constant source of inspiration and often show up in her poetry. Jan has published two full-length poetry collections and five chapbooks.
YVETTE VIETS FLATEN
(Eau Claire, WI) writes award-winning fiction and poetry. Her poetry has recently been published in A is for Apostle Islands, Island Intersections, Bramble, and Red Cedar. She and her husband Dan enjoy travelling, particularly along the shores of Lake Superior.
CAROL GOOD, since retiring as a certified professional facilitator, has redirected her creativity into writing—mostly poetry. Her pandemic projects included publishing of her first poetry collection—Alive & 65: a celebration for her 65th birthday and joining the League of Canadian Poets. Her snappy new website— carolgood.ca—was designed by her long-time friend, Sue Reynolds. She lives in an octagonal century home in Caledon, Ontario with her very handy husband.
MARY PETERS is a contributor to Stitching Earth to Sky, an anthology of PaperBirch Poets, Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets (WFOP) calendars, and in various online newsletters. She is a member of an international critique group for women writers. Mary is from Rhinelander and lives in Madison.
PEGGY TROJAN, retired from teaching English, lives in the north woods of Wisconsin next to a trout stream. Peggy is the author of two full-length poetry collections and five chapbooks. Her newest release, PA, won second place in the 2022 Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Chapbook Contest and is a finalist for the 2022 Northeast Minnesota Book Award.
ERIC CHANDLER is the author of Kekekabic (Finishing Line Press, 2022) and Hugging
This Rock: Poems of Earth & Sky, Love & War (Middle West Press, 2017). Chandler lives in Duluth, and he’s happiest on a trail with his wife, two children, and faithful canine companion, Leo.
NAOMI COCHRAN lives along the wild and scenic Namekagon River near Hayward. She has published three chapbooks (Finding Ourselves in Alzheimer’s, Razed Lutheran and The Truth About Everything). Her full-length collection, Fill in the Blank, received a 2018 Wisconsin Library Association Outstanding Achievement in Poetry award. She is a member of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets and serves as its membership chair.
CRYSTAL SPRING GIBBINS is a Canadian American writer and artist, founder/editor of Split Rock Review and Split Rock Press, editor of the anthology Rewilding: Poems for the Environment, and author of Now/ Here, winner of the 2017 Northeast Minnesota Book Award in poetry. She holds a PhD in English from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and her work has appeared in Coffee House Writers Project, North American Review, Parenthesis Journal, Verse Daily, The Writer’s Almanac, and elsewhere. www.crystalgibbins.com
HOWARD PAAP and his wife Marlene live in Bayfield, Wisconsin. He taught anthropology for thirty years, she worked in supervision in retail sales. They remain busy beside Lake Superior.
DIANA
Drummond, loves sitting near waterfalls to gain inspiration and inner peace. She’s the author of Beacons of the Earth & Sky, Paintings and Poetry
Inspired by the Natural World (Savage Press). For more information and a link to her studio Facebook page, please visit www.dianarandolph.com.
LUCY TYRRELL sums her interests as nature, adventure (mushing, canoeing), creativity (writing, sketching, photography, quilting). After years in Alaska, she traded a big mountain (Denali) for a big lake (Superior). As Bayfield Poet Laureate 2020–2021, she edited A is for Apostle Islands—a community collaboration of art and poetry.
Index (continued)
ice-edged blood runs cold betwixt tipped trees lichen rocks infusion of life
Response to Houghton Falls #4 (haiku)
by CarolGood
inviting caress smooth hued stream edged by ice unfrozen motion
Catherine Lange, Michael L. Ruth, “and their poet friends use photos and words to explore what it is that rivers, and experiences with water more generally, say to each of us. In doing so, they help to build bridges that we desperately need in these tumultuous times. Bridges that connect us to the stability of rocks from the basement of time and to the lifeblood that courses through each of our veins. Bridges that close the gaps between us, helping us to understand and appreciate the diversity of our perspectives. And, perhaps most importantly, bridges that transport us into the essential beauty of moving water and flowing words.”
—From the preface by ALAN BREW, Professor of English at Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin, and the Executive Director of its Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute.
ISBN 978-0-9887764-4-9
90000>
9 780988776449
