Customer Reviews

Wind Songs from Turtle's Back

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Thoughtful, beautifully crafted poetry by, believe it or not, an Idaho cattleman. My favorite of his poems are the two having to do with earthworms.

I'm not a frequent reader of poetry, but I am a lover of nature. In his poems, Goodman illustrates nature as one who lives it, works it, and knows it. His words portray images and feelings of earthly things; animals, plants, and flowers; they are comfort-giving, sympathy-evoking, and treasured necessities. Some of the poems give an impression belying the poet's life of a farmer or rancher; as if he lives a life of leisure, spending all his days merely observing the natural world and writing about it ("Watching my Cat", "Sitting on the Front Porch in Autumn", "From the Kitchen Window"). This illusion is put to rest as others reveal an obvious and intimate oneness he enjoys, one reached by laboring in the landscape as one must do to be instantly available when opportunities arrive and disappear in a flash, if he is to write authentically as in these poems.

"October, Wild Geese Calling" is true to the experience of anyone who's heard a group of geese flying overhead, their wings flapping en masse, giving life to the air they inhabit in a cooperative choreography man can only strive to imitate. "Feeding, Four Below," in its humorous brevity, evokes instant sympathy with both the cows and the man who's donned the Carhartt coat and boots and braved the brutal cold to keep his animals alive. And "Mustang" conveys the grandeur of the magnificent creature in his native condition, before forced submission eventually lulls away any remnant of his independent spirit as he eats his cut hay instead of escaping through an open gate. The more lighthearted "On writing a Poem When my Cool Cat Deigns to Give me Some Attention" describes the animal's purr as a "song a motorboat would make if motors were made of silk". The cat "gives me a long stare" in an experience anyone who's spent time with a cat knows well.

Goodman writes of horses and cattle, along with smaller and wilder creatures and things of earth and sky, as one who values the soul of the earth. He knows his animals as a mother knows her children. And his esteem for them strikes the conscience of a nature lover who might otherwise carry on, merely admiring, instead of looking more deeply at the innate dignity with which things of the earth live and die.

It is evident that Goodman treasures the moments in which he can observe and feel nature; treasures them so much, he is compelled to write about them.

I opened the book in the middle, read the unlikely title "Requiem for Mousie," and was stunned by unexpected tears (I never cry) that stroked a few of my own long-forgotten wounds. Hypnotized, I read poem after poem and felt all of my senses touched one by one, like piano keys. A gentle, smoothe blanket fell on me and touched me with beautiful images, tinkling sounds, and feelings both external and internal. In "Dark Wings" the owl -"her sylvan gaze piercing my sight...darkness was her light...but how am I to understand my fright?"--at once filled me with awe, and a somehow-soothing terror . In "Woodpecker," I melted into "the intricate web of land and sky" that "quietly held the lengthening day," and on the next page "redwing blackbirds sitting like punctuation marks" popped into my mind's eye. These poems suck you into feeling, hearing, and seeing life in a fine-tuned way. Jack Goodman knows animals and the land, and knows how to hush your spirit with words.