A Defense of Nature’s Beauty

One critic described my poems as “modern romantic nonsense.” While it is never good to have one’s work critiqued as nonsense, it is understandable that in a time when modern poetry is a raw, materialistic nightmare, the stomach for nature poetry through a romantic lens laced with Christian imagery may not be in the mainstream. However, my poems attempt to keep the old and venerable Romantic tradition alive. There are undoubtedly many who do it far better (the late great Mary Oliver comes to mind). Yet, it is my view that viewing the beauty of nature and writing simple poems with basic structure and rhyme scheme allows the reader to see nature the way they might in light of their own emotions. Not everything needs to be so grim, materialistic, and carnal. Anyone who has gone on a long hike knows the struggles that this can bring. Heat, bugs, sweat pouring down one’s brow. If we focus on the material, all we might see are rocks, trees, and streams while we languish in discomfort. But if we open our eyes and hearts to see the beauty surrounding us, we find the way the light flows through the trees expresses something more profound. Here, we may discover whimsy, beauty, grandeur, and wonder.

The other day, as my wife and I walked through Target, we wandered into the book section, and my eye caught the bestselling poetry book Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell. I read through it, wondering where my writing has gone so wrong! I came across this quote: “But the world is exhausted, and the only wealth we have left is love.” With all my heart, I could not disagree more. It depends, of course, on what one means by love. However, one only needs to stand by a meandering stream in northwestern New Jersey to know how untrue this statement is. The bounty of creation surrounds us in every breath we take. Modern man is surrounded by beauty we cannot or dare not see. For if we saw it, we would be forced to reconcile that in Nature, we have a wealth far beyond any measure. Beyond money, status, or romantic love. As I say of that small stream in New Jersey:

“Though small, this river’s wonder calls, Its quiet beauty humbles all, Despair displaced by tranquil might, It flows through May’s eternal light.”

So that is, to the best of my meager ability, the apologia I can make for the existence of my work. My great prayer is that should you decide “modern romantic nonsense” is for you and pick up a copy of Song of the Pines in its pages, you will find wealth in the simple verses and see the splendor and majesty of creation.