Nature Has Him in Its Sight - Scot Young

Time to share another poet that captivates my attention and admiration every time I land on his blog. This wonderful poet would be none other than Scot Young who graces the pages of Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers: Lest They be Angels in Disguise with some of the most beautiful and provocative poetry on the web today. Scot's range of subjects that he gets into seems to have no limit; he seems to cruise in hyper-vigilance mode and doesn't let much get by him. His ear is to the wind and he eyes things like an eagle. He reminds me of life seen from the aerie's nest. Nature has him in its sight, although he might jest it's the other way around. Ha! Funny how the Great Spirit seeks out its own; taps the shoulder of its earthly manprey to give a flash of intuition or revelation. Here's examples of what I mean. You gotta love'm!

A Haiku Love Sonnet–

–Waiting for the End of Yesterday

sometimes we travel
deep into this naked night
and see yesterday

eager to reconstruct
bits of a fragmented dream
with lost dialogue

wait for fading light
to kiss the soft of angel
wings warmed by the day

not an easy job
turning the orange sky dark
not an easy job

rearranging the planets
hanging a blue moon

Haiku Sonnet: Ozark County

March 18, 2008

hands held on weathered
glades set with yellow primrose
side step cactus that

stair steps down through oak
scattered woods hidden from noon
day tourists lost and

dodging dirt road ruts
this path leads to our hidden
waterfall off that

ridge spilling into
a shaded pool reflecting
soft blooms of dogwoods

in filtered light we
scratch our names on mossy rocks

Summer Morning #2 Haiku

July 12, 2008

summer morning
silence broken by light
rain on a tin roof

Summer Morning #1 Haiku

July 11, 2008

This is the first of three summer morning haiku from our Ozark hideaway.

summer morning–
yellow swallowtails dance on
wild bee balm

Stones

July 3, 2008

I spend my time
collecting stones
large ones for strong corners
flats for the cap
cobbles for plugging
the holes mixed
each day
to hold it strong

I spend my time
collecting stones
working in layers
laying each one to fit
like a puzzle
in this perfect wall
that protects the things
I own
and sometimes own me

I spend my time
collecting stones
set them around this
ancient oak
spreading arching
protects from sun
and storms
built high enough
to dream well under
a marauding moon

I spend my time
collecting stones
my father’s trade
this art passed down
with bleeding hands
fit to chisels
chipping stones
making them fit
sealing it up

I spend my time
collecting stones
but sometimes I
leave one out
of the perfect wall
……..one rock removed just
long enough for you
to slip in
before new mortar
is mixed
I cannot tell you
where it is

run your hand slowly
over the surface
……..there

do you see it?

Reading these few poems ought to make you feel one with nature; like falling on your back into the tall field grass; ready to dive into a fresh, cold, crisp mountain stream; dive off a high cliff on a hang glider or watch an eagle scope the swoop like Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Oh, WOW. I'm having a John Denver moment! You can, too. Now get yourself over to Scot Young's blog posthaste and have yourself a piece of Scot's delicious naturescape!

Scot lives in Missouri with his wife and 3 daughters. He's a high school principal and finds time to teach graduate classes, and a poetry class beginning with the Beats. Scot can be found both on the internet and in print and his poetry credits include publication in The Beat, Spoken Word, Asphalt Sky, Potpourri, Hemingway's Shotgun and Pleiades.