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Listening into Silence

By Heidi Fettig Parton | June 5, 2017 |

Photo by Scott Fettig

Photo by Scott Fettig 

With this issue of Agate, we say “thank you” and “best of luck” to our intern, Heidi Fettig Parton. Heidi was introduced to Agate after hearing co-editor Laurie Allmann do a poetry reading for a St. Croix Master Watershed Stewards event. At the time, she was wrapping up an MFA in creative nonfiction at Bay Path University, and approached us about a possible internship. Heidi must hold the title of most credentialed intern, having worked professionally as editor-in-chief for West Publications (a division of Thomson Reuters) as well as being an accomplished writer. 

Lucky for us, she wanted to stretch into unfamiliar terrain, make new connections, and support Agate’s vision, as an expression of her own appreciation for the natural world. Among her many helpful projects as an intern, she helped Agate define and reach out to new audiences through social media, and designed a striking promotional postcard that we now distribute at events. Her piece “Walking With Water” about her experience walking along the Kettle River with Ojibwe elder Sharon Day appeared in Agate in April, and we’re treating you to one of her new poems below.

Not least among Heidi’s contributions was bringing boundless enthusiasm to this work in progress and labor of love called Agate. We are better, and Agate is better, for her efforts. Congratulations on your MFA, Heidi, and happy writing.   (S. Hemphill & L. Allmann)

 

Listening into Silence

By Heidi Fettig Parton

 

I named the bur oak, towering

at the northeast corner of my lot,

Tree Beard. Three efficiently-

spaced fungi gave Tree Beard

the illusion of a face, until the oak

 

left us last fall. My entire family

could now stand on the stump—

all that remains of Tree Beard,

whose rotted interior had turned

into a fine fibrous pulp, filling

the crater-like scar.

 

Mushrooms, the “flowers” of fungi,

when found around trees, indicate

healthy soil; their mycelium strands

act as a network, sending nutrients

from thriving trees to weaker ones.

But mushrooms growing on trees

often portend a coming doom.

 

I cried last October,

the day Tree Beard came

down. All winter, the empty

hole to the sky preached

at those places in me,

still vacant. All winter

 

Photo by Stephanie Hemphill

Photo by Stephanie Hemphill

I listened into this silence,

created through absence; no

longer did I hear the mating calls

of the great-horned owls,

my soul’s guide the prior winter

into spring.

 

Today, in a cool spring rain,

I squat over smooth deep purple

horns, the first signs of the hostas

pushing up bravely through cold

soil; in this low-to-ground posture

I become still to observe fresh life

emerging in the April drench. I swear,

hour-by-hour, pale yellow buds fill

out the still-standing oaks and new

green leaves deck out the buckthorn,

which never seems to understand

its invasive nature. Soon too, I hear

 

calls of field sparrows. I look up

to see five or six petite brown

and grey fluffs of twitter and song

foraging food in the spongy dark pit

of Tree Beard’s remains. I feel my

heart fill too. Perhaps it’s true:

voids create space for what is coming.

It’s comforting to think that everything

everywhere

is nurturing something

not yet here. Not to mention,

the healing salve of spring rain.

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Homepage Bottom Features, Homepage Top Feature, Photography, Poetry Tagged With: poetry

About Heidi Fettig Parton

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