List: Nature-centered poems | Curated by Deborah Barchi

Apr 12, 2024

24 stories

Nature-centered poemsPaying attention to details, large or small, in the natural world
Deborah Barchi
in
Creatures
Spring Peepers!The song that owns the night
Mar 25, 2021
4
Mar 25, 2021
4
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
The Beauty of Slow-Motion PhotographyThe god-like ability to witness change moment to moment.
Jan 16
13
Jan 16
13
Deborah Barchi
in
Tenderly
The Astonishing Bravery of Small CreaturesSmall bodies, brave hearts
May 27, 2020
6
May 27, 2020
6
Deborah Barchi
in
The Haven
Chipmunk EnvyWhen stuffing your face is a positive thing
Nov 29, 2021
3
Nov 29, 2021
3
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
All Atangle Beside a Dusty RoadIn praise of what is overlooked
Aug 9, 2023
4
Aug 9, 2023
4
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
Talking to a GrasshopperDisinclined to answer me back
Aug 3, 2023
5
Aug 3, 2023
5
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
White Asters in AutumnRagged and wild
Sep 27, 2023
6
Sep 27, 2023
6
Deborah Barchi
in
The Daily Cuppa
The Soothing Sound of CricketsGradually disappearing. . .
Jul 24, 2023
6
Jul 24, 2023
6
Deborah Barchi
in
The Daily Cuppa
What’s Making That Racket?Oh, a bunch of birds!
Aug 1, 2023
2
Aug 1, 2023
2
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
The Last Bird SingingBringing a message of hope
Apr 3, 2023
33
Apr 3, 2023
33
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
A Bird on a BranchHidden in plain sight
Mar 29, 2023
35
Mar 29, 2023
35
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
Spring Is a Liminal DreamFlitting through a poet’s mind. Writing prompt — On the road to Spring
Feb 28, 2023
5
Feb 28, 2023
5
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
Autobiography of a LeafTender, green, and new I hang,
needing only sun and rain.
Feb 17, 2020
2
Feb 17, 2020
2
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
Hard FrostThe first hard frost is not a pretty sight
for anything left naked out of doors.
Feb 19, 2020
8
Feb 19, 2020
8
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
The Willows Are ReadyThe willows are ready though spring is weeks away.
Their slender branches scrape the ground, 
seeking transformation.
Feb 22, 2020
3
Feb 22, 2020
3
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
The Same Path“No man ever steps into the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” Heraclitus, 6th century BCE
Feb 28, 2020
2
Feb 28, 2020
2
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
On Waking to Hear an OwlWhat wakes me in the middle
of my dreams
as the still hours of darkness
seem to swell
Mar 5, 2020
8
Mar 5, 2020
8
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
I Stood at the Top of a MountainDazzled by the view
Dec 9, 2021
5
Dec 9, 2021
5
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
Put a Flower in the WindowWatch it reach for the light
Feb 8, 2022
4
Feb 8, 2022
4
Deborah Barchi
in
Scribe
If We Could View Our LivesAs a soaring bird does
Jun 15, 2022
3
Jun 15, 2022
3

Nature-centered poems

Paying attention to details, large or small, in the natural world

Spring Peepers!

The song that owns the night

The Beauty of Slow-Motion Photography

The god-like ability to witness change moment to moment.

The Astonishing Bravery of Small Creatures

Small bodies, brave hearts

Chipmunk Envy

When stuffing your face is a positive thing

All Atangle Beside a Dusty Road

In praise of what is overlooked

Talking to a Grasshopper

Disinclined to answer me back

White Asters in Autumn

Ragged and wild

The Soothing Sound of Crickets

Gradually disappearing. . .

What’s Making That Racket?

Oh, a bunch of birds!

The Last Bird Singing

Bringing a message of hope

A Bird on a Branch

Hidden in plain sight

Spring Is a Liminal Dream

Flitting through a poet’s mind. Writing prompt — On the road to Spring

Autobiography of a Leaf

Tender, green, and new I hang, needing only sun and rain.

Hard Frost

The first hard frost is not a pretty sight for anything left naked out of doors.

The Willows Are Ready

The willows are ready though spring is weeks away. Their slender branches scrape the ground, seeking transformation.

The Same Path

“No man ever steps into the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” Heraclitus, 6th century BCE

On Waking to Hear an Owl

What wakes me in the middle of my dreams as the still hours of darkness seem to swell

I Stood at the Top of a Mountain

Dazzled by the view

Put a Flower in the Window

Watch it reach for the light

If We Could View Our Lives

As a soaring bird does

Deborah Barchi