Community Voices

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

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

morning light
gilding the treetops
as they fall
splinters lodge
in my paperbark heart

the sound
of limbs being broken
as if on a wheel—
bloodless the fallen hollies,
the heart of pine laid bare

the blunt thrust
of a bulldozer,
the shudder
of tissues torn apart—
who cries for the earth me too

a box turtle
crushed by the skidder’s tread
at the edge
of the leftover woods
this barricade of spiders’ silk

plumes of smoke
rise from the clearcut
silvery as ghosts
the sound of wind chimes
before the hurricane

may the words
that tumble from my tongue
be turned to moss—
creep over the wounded land,
bury the cities of men

~Ribbons 15:1, winter 2019

By Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

the scream
of a red-tailed hawk
over the wood
where dozers wait—
my silent cry an echo

the giraffe
earns a place
on the Red List—
Gaia’s ghost
haunts my dreams

stacking stones
to build a cairn . . .
balancing
Earth’s bones,
I awaken to vertigo

fifty years
from discovery
to extinction—
a Pagan reed-warbler
sings in my heart

4% survived
the Permian extinction,
giving rise
to all that lives . . .
and to my flightless hope

~Ribbons 13:1, Winter 2017