Featured Poem: Sleeping Out by Jane Routh
Under the tranquil canopy of pines,
The forecast doubted, yet my bivvy bag
Was partly sheltered beneath the awning,
Where the starlit spectacle could still be seen.
Upon waking, a gentle snowfall had blanketed me;
A mere two inches adorned the earth,
Already yielding to the thaw,
Obscuring the tracks of a visitor.
Around my unsuspecting form,
A mysterious creature had prowled,
Its footprints now fading,
Their impressions vanishing:
Four-toed, it seemed —
Perhaps a fox, most likely,
Or did the prints widen,
Bearing the weight of a wildcat?
A damp muzzle,
Near my head, had drawn near,
Exhaling my own breath
And silently witnessing dreams,
While gauging my presence
In a circuitous path —
Much akin to how
I might inspect a spraint,
Or trace deer tracks
To their den, contemplating
A night’s rest there myself.
This week’s chosen poem hails from Jane Routh’s evocative fourth collection, “Listening to the Night.” Routh, based in the rural expanse of north-west England, stewards a woodland area. Her poetry resonates with the tangible essence of her surroundings, mirroring the intricate tapestry of rural existence and the challenges and joys of coexisting harmoniously with the natural world. As exemplified by the award-winning piece, “One Place,” her verse reflects, “After years tethered to one patch, / You fell trees. You planted them too close, / Or marred the vista, or some withered.”
At the heart of “Sleeping Out” lies a visceral encounter, interwoven with the interplay of knowledge and instinct. The narrator, adept in the nuances of field excursions and animal tracking, begins with a moment of instinctual doubt; she questions the weather forecast as she prepares her campsite. Despite her skepticism, she arranges her makeshift bed as if challenging her uncertainty or subconsciously sensing the impending snowfall.
The outcome appears a compromise, with the shelter of the “bivvy bag” and an unobstructed view of the celestial expanse. The weather forecast proves accurate, and Routh’s narrative delicately captures the thrill of awakening under the fresh snowfall. To find oneself beneath its “light coverlet” is to intimately connect with nature in a moment of exhilarating, albeit potentially perilous, communion. While Routh maintains a cautious tone, readers, envisaging her experience, may share in the shiver of anticipation and envy for the heightened awareness bestowed by sleeping under the stars and snow.
A deeper revelation unfolds within the poem: the enigmatic traces left behind by nocturnal visitors. Much like the snowfall, these tracks could signify a tangible threat. Yet, they elude human consciousness, resulting in no harm. It’s as though the sleeper’s safety is assured by her unconscious state.
The astute observer, wide awake, is tasked with deciphering the footprints. The choice of “indents” is thought-provoking, evoking both the impressions in the snow and typographic marks. Interpretation of the tracks remains inconclusive. Mentally, the poet circles around a query — fox or wildcat? — mirroring the imagined circuit of the creature around her slumbering form. Echoing themes from the recently spotlighted poem, “To Tartar, a Terrier Beauty” by Thomas Lovell Beddoes, there’s a suggestion of tacit forms of knowledge. “A damp muzzle / had leaned close by my head, / exhaling my breath / and surreptitiously observing dreams / while gauging my presence / in a circular path.” A shared consciousness between animal and human is implied in the exchange of warm breath and the “surreptitious” observation of dreams. It’s undeniable that by simply listening to breath and observing the movements of a slumbering being, one can often discern dream-induced emotions like fear or contentment. Perhaps other creatures, too, possess this innate ability to perceive the dreams of a different species?
In the closing stanza, the hunter’s near-instinctual tracking abilities come into play: “Sniffing at ‘spraints’ (otter dung), / observing deer tracks and following them.” However, this isn’t a hunt; rather, the poem’s tracks lead to the contemplation of the narrator exchanging places with the animal, “As if I might / lay down too, experience / how the world unfolds from that vantage point.” There’s a grounded quality to the poem, evident in its tone and cadence, in the sparing use of rhyme, and in the equilibrium between cognition and intuition. It moves as softly as the overnight snow and the “damp muzzle” of the creature, quietly surveying and then moving on. Soon, the snow will melt, and the tracks will fade. Though the poem subtly sounds an environmental cautionary note, the cohabitation of species appears as a comforting and feasible marvel.