Author Jay Sturner

Below are three poems that were hand-written in the back of my copy of Way of the Peaceful Warrior . I wrote them while reading the book. Speak what is true Through mouth or mind or dream Through action, poetry, intention Speak what is true And truth . Your truth. ________ An albatross Glides across the water Visits islands now and then Mostly stays at sea _______ Did I ever meet you? Will I ever, again? Beyond the mist, the veil, I hear the heartbeat of the universe. Yes, I've always known you. And you, me.

Something died by owl in the wing-brushed snow of a moon-bright wood First published in Awen  in 2022. Michel Poirier

They watch us in secret. Eyes aglow in the wand-like blossoms of hyacinth. Watch as we jog, walk, bike, bird through wooded corridors of quiet rivers. They enjoy the birders most—the passion they exude—but question their dependence on binoculars and cameras. If only they’d be fully present with nature! They might then remember the language. And the birds would fly right up to them and pose, and converse with them, and tell their secrets. But humans have truly forgotten, haven’t they. Erected walls, shut their doors, kept wildness at bay; a million boundaries set inside and outside the mind. For this, and more, the fairy folk weep for us, their buoyant tears evaporating into soft blankets of morning mist. Yet still they watch from their pale blue towers of enchanted hyacinth, entertained by our strange attempts to slow from perpetual busyness. Holding tiny, binocular-like devices of their own—mock toys, really, like children with long sticks for swords—for the fairies see us just fine ...

" Dawn Chorus " is currently on display in   The Fox Poetry Box   in St. Charles, Illinois.

Hermit Thrush sticks to the shadows. When he steps out, it's to remind us that the ghostly voice coming down from the trees truly does belong to a living thing; that yes, he does exist. Mortal or immortal, he doesn't say, and I don't press. Then back to the shadows he goes, perhaps deeper this time, to that mysterious realm where the songs of all thrush kin are born. Painting by Art by Alyssa Gallery at  www.alyssawatters.com

I'm not often moved by European Starlings, being troublesome as they are to our native wildlife. But today, considering the extreme weather, all things are equal : Negative twenty-three degrees. Birds puffed up and deliberate. I watch the feeders from my window, safe, but concerned. What survived the night has a long fight ahead, an ancient struggle as pure as the arctic snow. Today, I harbor no disdain for the non-native starling — that single, disoriented bird I saw fumble across the snow, losing its wild symmetry. European Starling by Bill Ahlgren (From the book HEARTVINES )

Such a little pop, a flare of dinosaur. Warmly brown. Curious, but no line-crosser; a blender-in. Life in small, tight spaces, condensed heavens (or eternal ones, if the fairies have their say). But back to wrens, to the feathered belly-laughs of children, bouncing and hide-and-seeking in rocky, mossy, fallen-log regions of the shadowy wood. Quiet places. Places passed over, underappreciated. Nearly forgotten if not for the presence and eternal song of the Winter Wren. Winter Wren by Scott Somershoe (From the book HEARTVINES )

Up from the riverbank and through the low leaves: A tiny sun rises, is reflected in drops of morning dew. Prothonotary Warbler by Julie Long (From the book HEARTVINES )

Red-winged Blackbird by Brendon Lake (From the book HEARTVINES )

Sunlight retracts like a tide... A blade of prairie grass arcs             to                         the                                              earth beneath a black-and-yellow shape. Witchity, witchity, witchity... Tiny bandit skulks through day’s ending light. (From the book HEARTVINES ) Common Yellowthroat by Graham Gerdeman

Not all leaves of orange and brown take the path of eternal sleep; many rally and rise up to form the lovely grouse. Ruffed Grouse by Jimmy Tucker (From the book HEARTVINES )

Hermit Thrush— So old, so wise; so rooted in earth’s antiquity she’s already gone rust from bottom up. Hermit Thrush by Jason Newton (From the book HEARTVINES )

Brown Creeper  For those who seek their charm. And your day was going  only okay, as you expected it would stay. Then Brown Creeper came along— cryptic, petite— and spiraled, herky-jerky, up and around your fogged-up heart. And suddenly heart, and soul— both clear—were better than okay: They were realigned. Brown Creeper by Adam Wilson (From the book HEARTVINES )

Gold ‘n’ Blue Sunrise Forks of the River WMA, Knoxville, TN July 7, 2015 On glistening sunflowers in ghosts of morning mist whistle-buzzy buntings open us to joy. Indigo Bunting by Jimmy Tucker (From the book Wilderness & Love )

Spring migration: Fragments of rainbow flash among the leaves Prairie Warbler by Melinda Fawver (From the book Wilderness & Love )

Song Sparrow sings and sings… He could have been called Sore Throat Sparrow (From the book Wilderness & Love )

This might be the first poem I ever wrote. I was about 10 years old. In 2016 I added it to my book Wilderness & Love .

On January 18th (and during rebroadcasts) my poem “Dawn Chorus” was read on The Open Mike Poetry Show, an hour-long program on UK radio station 107.1 FM in Winchcombe. You can listen to a recording of it on YouTube here . Dawn Chorus In spring, they sing: thrushes, wrens, warblers, all. An earthly opus sprung wide and free through dawn. In spring, they sing— Announcements cast on a screen of rising light; the silence pushed to the backs of leaves, into cracks of stone. To my ears the dawn chorus is but one song; one the waking sun conducts but never hears. In spring, I join in . . . whistle down the path with a child’s air; a timeless flow of nature from ears to heart. And that is how all my best days begin. (From the book Wilderness & Love )

Another one of my poems ("Dawn Chorus") will be read on Saturday January 18th during The Open Mike Poetry Show , an hour-long broadcast from UK radio station 107.1 FM in Winchcombe. The program will air at 2 PM (London time), then re-air on Wednesday January 22nd at both noon and 6 PM (again, London time). The only way to listen, however, is online (see link below), unless, of course, you live in the broadcast zone. Note: Soon after the final airing, the show will be archived and accessible via a forthcoming iCloud link. http://www.radiowinchcombe.co.uk/