Their little aerial game

Dropping sticks is a game

the summer crows have learned to

play, flying from May

to September, one above the other. 

The higher lets his toy fall through the

air to the other of the pair,

who returns the favor.  We gulp

to see these evening acrobats climb so

high, printed black against the sky

above the blacker hills.

They become absorbed in their little

game. It seems so tame:

one drops a stick, the other catches it,

what more is there to

say? Just that every day

my heart drops with it

through the empty air, till a strange

and gay and capricious bird, unknown to

me, catches that heart, and it soars again.

“Dropping Sticks,’’ by Frank Robinson,  an Ithaca, N.Y.-based poet, art historian and a former director of the Johnson Museum of Art at Cornell University and the Museum of Art at the Rhode Island School of Design

“American Crow,’’ by John Jacob Audubon

Frank Robinson: What we're left with

Note from Robert Whitcomb:

Every year at this time, a longtime friend of mine, Frank Robinson, an art historian, poet and essayist who used to run the art museums at the Rhode Island School of Design and Cornell University, sends a poem from his home in Ithaca, N.Y. Here’s this year’s:

Senior Moments, 111

(written from a senior community)

A notice in our auditorium:

“Dear Alzheimer’s Patients:

Please don’t talk during the concert.

It disturbs the other guests.’’

xxx

Of course we love our children —

without them,

we wouldn’t have our grandchildren.

xxx

The challenge here:

You’re nobody now,

but you can’t forget

you were somebody once.

xxx

        Just in Case

Of course, I’ll go first,

but just in case,

please write a note

to your successor

(not replacement, no, never!)

a brief note explaining me.

xxx

Advertisement

MOURNERS FOR HIRE –

YOU DIE, WE CRY

a public service for every occasion,

every gender, every religion,

loud or soft,

and all you can eat at the wake.

xxx

       Waiting for My Knee Replacement

A few helpful comments:

“It’s very painful – worse than a hip.”

“It’s a big deal.’’

“You’re walking so much better now,

you really don’t need an operation.’’

And then someone stole my walker –

or rather, walked away with it.

Even my cane clicks

every time I take a step.

Thank God

they operate tomorrow.

xxx

       The Day After

People are so nice to me,

I must be very sick. 

xxx

Here,

you’re out of step

If you’re perfectly healthy.

xxx

Each of us is known for our illness,

and each day,

we’re either better or worse or the same.

xxx

We grow smaller year by year.

They say it’s age,

But maybe, too,

it’s the way that time

keeps lopping off

our jobs, our homes, our friends.

We’re left with who we are,

nothing more, but nothing less.

xxx

We have so little time left,

we have  all the time in the world.

xxx

My wish for everyone here –

a healthy life, an easy death,

and a lot of money left over.

Melissa Tuckey: Friends don't let friends frack

All my life, I’ve been a good citizen. I vote. I volunteer. I know my neighbors.

Moreover, I take care of my property. I garden. I make jams and jellies to give away for Christmas. In short, I fulfill my obligations as a rural homeowner.

Still, there’s one additional step I’ve taken to be a good neighbor: I’ve signed a pledge to resist fracking in New York State.

I moved with my family to the small city of Ithaca in upstate New York five years ago. We were drawn to the natural beauty here and the innovative local economy, which has one of the fastest growing organic and family farming sectors in the country.

Here in Ithaca, crop mobs — large groups of volunteers — show up at local farms to plant and harvest alongside our hardest working neighbors: the farmers. A network is growing, too, to provide low-income residents with access to locally grown, healthy, organic produce.

We’re on the cutting edge of a new economy: one that uses renewable energy, leaves a small carbon footprint, and invests in local businesses. This emerging economy is more livable and prosperous than older models, which are failing everywhere.

Fracking threatens all of this.

Fracking, or “hydraulic fracturing,” is a controversial method used in drilling for oil and gas. It turns rural communities into industrial zones, complete with all the problems that come with heavy industry: blazing flares, loud noise, light pollution, heavy truck traffic, and air and water contamination.

Although you might not choose to buy property next to an industrial waste site, if your neighbor wants to frack, you’re out of luck.

Residents living near fracking sites complain of a wide range health problems related to pollution of their property — from nosebleeds to asthma, cancer, and kidney disease.

To make matters worse, gas companies and lawmakers have teamed up in states like Pennsylvania to pass gag rules that block doctors and nurses from discussing the health effects of fracking-related chemical exposures with their patients.

A recent study published in the peer-reviewed Environmental Health journal shows that not only does fracking pollute water sources — more than 687 million gallons of fracking waste laden with radioactive materials and heavy metals were injected in deep wells in Ohio alone last year — it also threatens our air quality.

The study of six communities in Arkansas, Colorado, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York and Wyoming found high levels of air pollution at multiple fracking and oil-production and -storage sites. More than one third of study air samples contained concentrations of dangerous chemicals exceeding federal standards for health and safety.

Among the chemicals that most often exceeded limits, the study found formaldehyde, a known human carcinogen, and hydrogen sulfide, a potent nerve and organ toxin that smells like rotten eggs. In Wyoming, the air sample contained hydrogen sulfide in concentrations ranging from twice to 660 times the level classified by the EPA as immediately dangerous to human life.

These facilities are  near schools, farms, and homes. Our regulatory system is failing these families while increasing profits for the fossil-fuel and chemical industries.

This is why a dear neighbor of mine recently spent the night in jail, and why 83 people in recent weeks — including the baker who makes our bread each week, and the owner of my favorite restaurant — have peacefully blocked the entrance at a proposed gas storage site beneath Seneca Lake.

And it’s why I’ve joined thousands of New Yorkers in signing a pledge to resist fracking. Because if we poison this land, we’ll never get it back.

Melissa Tuckey is a  poet and author of the book ''Tenuous Chapel''. She’s a co-founder of the national poetry organization Split This Rock. She wrote this for OtherWords.org.