Three Poems for Dahl Wildlife Sanctuary and New Hampshire Audubon
by Katherine Hagopian Berry
May, 2021
Day Before Her Birthday
On the silver maple trail, we
wonder have we seen it all, realize
we have forgotten the rare cobble barren, that
longed for habitat, hairy hudsonia, silverling, vegetation
dragonnamed, but the sky isn’t clearing
stray raindrops, open shoes, all untied, it is
easier to circle, a
fragile spider, half orbiting messy
nest box poles, barbed wire, transition
meadow, the falsenettle, mayflower, bellwort and
you are almost twelve, taking selfies, visually
flinching, worry contorting your eyes, are they unattractive
your legs like a fiddlehead poised to unfurl? So we
learn to notice the gold in our hair, cease to apologize for
nearsight, the way it forces attention, the
truth is our whole short-term
preoccupation with appearance
is nonsense anyway, I tell you, we
are alone in the field, there are
creatures in stickdens huddling close, glad
of their dark bodies. I have saved only one picture, you
like a raptor, listening for water, have chosen
profile, birchbark, floodplain, thicket to
remember our visit
capture the cloudsky, the swale, the meander scar, us.
Landtrust
This is the magic
you walk the land
take nothing, not even your eyes
you must close them
until there is no looking
only darkness like an open hand.
This is the magic
you place one foot in front of another
trails blazed on your bones
or even wandering
some iron in the blood
leads you safehome.
This is the magic
the treasured stick.
the mica stone,
above you sky unrolls
a maryshawl of blue,
to hold them.
This is the magic
every lightray, pressed
to your heart like a lover,
every newbud leaf,
like you, it will fall
like you, it will come back changed.
Before we reach the Skelton Dam
Above the curse line, in New Hampshire
the Saco is a different river, so mild
kayakers drift, their music, paddles
like white flags across bent knees.
On the margin of the cobble barren
I can imagine a different beginning
bark, brigantine, ketch, sloop, seeking
dawnshore, palms over open hearts.
Below my feet the stones
in the shallows are all the colors
of human hands, water brushes
them one along the other, ever gentling.
I wade in. Imagine curses
lifting, knives, falls, broken
bodies sated, blood enough
for blood, even my blond son.
Walking back the trail, caterpillars
are melting from every hemlock, pinetree,
seeking redemption, I imagine some bright genus
reconciliation unfolding like wings.
At the LLBean I ask them
browntail moth, they say, invasive
a menace, flamerash, poison, no mercy,
they destroy everything they touch.
Katherine Hagopian Berry (she/her) has appeared in the Café Review, Rise-Up Review, and Glass: Poet’s Resist, among other places. Her first collection, Mast Year, was published in 2020. She is a poetry reader for the Maine Review.
The mission at NH Audubon (nhaudubon.org) is to protect New Hampshire’s natural environment for wildlife and for people. Founded in 1914 with an original focus on protecting and restoring migratory bird populations decimated by hunting and collection in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, today’s NH Audubon provides: environmental education programs throughout the state, statewide conservation research and wildlife monitoring, protection of nearly 10,000 acres of wildlife habitat in 39 sanctuaries, and environmental public policy and science-based advocacy.