Enormous gentle beasts

Speaking and recognizing more than humans know

Cooperating and following one another until death

A female at the stern, milk from her belly

Living almost as long as we, yet in harmony

Posing a threat only in defense, using their size only as deterrent

When they could control and cause infinitely more destruction

They are more keen to mourn loss, greet one another in celebration

And move on toward the next watering hole

Their wrinkled thick skin effective for sun and heat

Beauty more deeply expressed through intelligence and remembering

Survival depending on knowledge and community

Lessons cultivated over 25 million years evolution

Better equipped are they than us in so many ways and on all levels

Communities strong, traveling far distances together, for food, for water

And for love and family, mating a celebration of a continuum, not competition

Among these female giant gentle beasts of plain and jungle

-by Laura Garrard

Laura Garrard is an artist, editor, nationally certified massage therapist, certified lymphatic therapist and Reiki master teacher who lives in Jackson, Wyoming.

At Sunrise

Just at sunrise

a brilliant white arc flashes

around the corner of the

Dutch hip of my home,

beaks black against the morning green sky.

Looking up I catch only the thrust of eight wings,

long necks wobbling with the beat.

Swans.

They’d not announced their approach,

only soundlessly curled toward the east

to light on still water and feed.

- by David Porter

David Porter lives in Jackson and teaches at Journeys School where he is the Upper School Curriculum Coordinator. David teaches students to have an empowered voice in writing and in speech.

Stoke the Red

What do you do upon waking up one morning to find your northern world turned winter white,

Wondering, quietly over a pre-dawn mug of tea,

If in your pursuit of peace—all unruffled serenity and communion with silent mountains—

Has been at the expense of passion?

It’s been so long since you felt red in this gigantic, pristine white,

You almost forgot you missed it.

Stop what you’re doing; put down the mug;

Seek the Red immediately.

That fierce, hot, southern thing that won’t be frozen into stillness.

The wild woman who lives inside the wise one.

Take some moments to stoke the red—me? I seek music, the kind that is flounce-filled, foot-stomping, with flames that lick my fingers—

One song leads to the next; something is leading me on, click, click, click.

And I feel that inner gallop in my veins

That stirring, that heating, that happens from

Refusing to forget

That the part of us that sinks into peace

Is the same part of us that burns.

- by Amely Greeven

Jackson resident Amely Greeven started out as a fashion journalist, became a health and wellness author, and now writes about spirituality and the sublime. Find her at www.thereishopeinbeauty.com.