The Environmental Outdoor Exhibit Project (EOEP)

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

No cougars are supposed to roam the Appalachian mountains.  They’re supposed to be extinct here, killed off or driven out by logging half a century ago.  And yet . . . here and there a single footprint lingers in damp earth, a wisp of hair clings to rusted wire, a blurred snapshot betrays the image of a ghost-cat slipping through shadows.

And once, echoing down the mountainside where I stumbled mile after mile over rain-slicked rocks in gathering dusk—once, a long, unearthly scream to pierce the heart. 

I utter a prayer 
into the darkness
that enfolds me—
may all the vanished ones return 
when at long last we’re gone

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

milkweed blooms
at the meadow’s edge
she waits
for the monarch’s blessing
under a shattered sky

one strand snaps
and the tapestry ravels—
at dusk
a mockingbird sings
the old crone’s song

soft rain falling
through a starless night
she weaves
its many-colored threads
into a shroud for the earth

~Stacking Stones Anthology, summer 2018

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

butterflies flutter
from the artist’s brush
in memoriam—
a river of monarchs
once flowed across the sky

slow spirals
up the summer sky—
scavengers
cleansing my mind
of its dark residue

I follow a path
of spindrift oak leaves
to a clearing
where no cabin ever stood—
its hidden hearth my home

the day
closes its circle
around me
silver voices
re-enchant the dusk

to keep at bay
the wolfish dreams,
I sleep
with gentle sorrow
cradled in my arms

~red lights 15:2, June, 2019

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

the slow beat
of an egret’s wings
white
against dark oaks—
earth’s annunciation

vultures
cradled on the wind
endlessly rocking
the tall pines sing
both lullaby and dirge

the milk-white flesh
of a giant puffball
broken open
under the moon
an old woman’s grief

with this drop
of russet ink
from the acorn cap
I write nothing—
the oak said it better

a rift in the wing
of a wild goose
flying headlong
through gathering dusk
the fate of the earth

~red lights 16:1, January 2020

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Commentary on “Beyond the Threshold” by Tish Davis

Jenny Ward Angyal’s tanka sequence, “Beyond the Threshold” is exquisitely crafted.   There is a subtle progression in each of the five tanka:   

In the beginning, there is no immediate alarm.  There is no frantic reaction to the first two lines which segue into the last three:    

the slow beat  / of an egret’s wings /  white / against dark oaks —  /  earth’s annunciation.  

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In the second tanka, there are:

vultures / cradled on the wind

Vultures are birds of prey.  They gather in anticipation, patiently waiting for the death of the creatures they are observing. 

As the tanka continues the reader is made aware that there is a purpose in the vultures’ movement. They are endlessly rocking  

and perhaps that rocking is what piqued the interest as the tall pines sing  /  both lullaby and dirge.  (Quite alarming actually with the implication that young children and babies could be harmed.)

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In the third tanka, death and destruction are conveyed via imagery:  

the milk-white flesh / of a giant puffball / broken open / under the moon / an old woman’s grief 

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In the fourth tanka,  the color “red” appears for the first time along with the implication that this is the red of blood.  

with this drop /  of russet ink / from the acorn cap / I write nothing /  the oak said it better   

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In the concluding tanka, the poetess acknowledges the “grit” of survival via a metaphor of a wild goose with “a rift in the wing.”    

a rift in the wing /  of a wild goose  /  flying headlong  / through gathering dusk / the fate of the earth    
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Jenny, thank you for posting this!   A great read and also a good piece for study.

All the best,

Tish Davis