I have wanted to use "umwelt" in a sentence ever since I learned of it. But it's an edgy concept to drop into conversation, plus it's hard to say casually…"Oom-velt". Umwelt is an animal's unique experience of its surroundings. My umwelt is completely different from a bird's umwelt, or a squirrel's umwelt, or from your umwelt, even.
The Brook Calls Me Down
the brook calls me down
steeply down the cut bank
where the big ferns cling
to the mud in the dank
I try to walk past
it's so far off the trail
but the brook calls me down
through the bramble strewn swale.
across the black stump
past a skeletal beech
two stones rise up
splitting water to speech
and it's there where I balance
one shoe to a stone
with one hand immersed
and numbed well to the bone
it pulls at my fingers
a cold rushing gleam
irresistible currents
and watery dreams
the brook takes my measure
pulls warmth from my skin
and adds my umwelt
to its musical spin
with one hand immersed
in the meek wooded stream
I am touching the surface
of all that it seems.
The brook calls me down
sometimes just for a show
Makes a single leaf twist
in a hypnotic flow
the brook sends me blazes
fresh woodpecker holes
and newly-damp diggings
of fishers and moles
more often the threat
is convincingly clear
You will never again
see it this way, this near.
the brook calls me down
steeply down the cut bank
where the big ferns cling
to the mud in the dank
with one hand immersed
in the meek wooded stream
I am touching the surface
of all that it seems.
The Brook Calls Me Down
the brook calls me down
steeply down the cut bank
where the big ferns cling
to the mud in the dank
I try to walk past
it's so far off the trail
but the brook calls me down
through the bramble strewn swale.
across the black stump
past a skeletal beech
two stones rise up
splitting water to speech
and it's there where I balance
one shoe to a stone
with one hand immersed
and numbed well to the bone
it pulls at my fingers
a cold rushing gleam
irresistible currents
and watery dreams
the brook takes my measure
pulls warmth from my skin
and adds my umwelt
to its musical spin
with one hand immersed
in the meek wooded stream
I am touching the surface
of all that it seems.
The brook calls me down
sometimes just for a show
Makes a single leaf twist
in a hypnotic flow
the brook sends me blazes
fresh woodpecker holes
and newly-damp diggings
of fishers and moles
more often the threat
is convincingly clear
You will never again
see it this way, this near.
the brook calls me down
steeply down the cut bank
where the big ferns cling
to the mud in the dank
with one hand immersed
in the meek wooded stream
I am touching the surface
of all that it seems.
