Writing and nature both require us to slow down and pay careful attention to the details around us. Poetry can also be a great outlet to express emotions and feelings about nature and the changes that happen around us every day.
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The Terry Belew poetry reading will take place Wednesday, September 23, 2026, at 7 pm inside of Karls Hall on Missouri State University campus in Springfield. The event is free and open to the public. No registration is required.
Information about Moon City Review can be found here: http://www.mooncityreview.com/
Kelly’s reading recommendations:
Mary Oliver “Beans” https://poets.org/poem/beans
W.S. Merwin “Black Cherries” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/1586491/black-cherries
Camille Dungy “Trophic Cascade” https://poems.com/poem/trophic-cascade/
Jane Hirshfield “Tree” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47100/tree-56d227515c386
Kimberly Blaeser “Postures of Devotion” https://poets.org/poem/postures-devotion
Terry Belew “In the Woods” https://solarjournal.org/issue-four/poetry-in-the-woods-belew
Sara Burge “The solar flare will set us all on fire this Saturday” https://muse.jhu.edu/pub/4/article/949401/pdf
Will LaPage “1°” https://paddockreview.com/2025/06/20/a-poem-by-william-lapage/
Sara Burge “Satisfaction”
Satisfaction
Air in late July is lecherous,
licks our skin until
we’re wet with desire.
Bees throng the sunflowers,
flashing their fat little asses.
Mosquitos flock to the rind of us
while air clings
like a child who refuses
all pleas for solitude.
Strange white bugs
chew at the garden’s offerings
until every last hope lies limp.
We slap the mosquito’s body
against our own. She bursts
into blood and communion.
Will LaPage “Shelter in Place”
Shelter in Place
All night, your waters contend
for these rooms, baring out its hailstone
and winter debris. Swarms of rain deshell redbud flowerets.
Porch-life scenes block on block.
A third of the floodplain is up for sale.
The catalpas hardly legible above the rooftops incline
toward the channel.
Flakes of pitch tumble in the backwash.
Sometimes I wade in barefoot until I erode with the banks.
Sinews of moss leak from my drainpipes
filmed in cotton foam
speared with sweetgum burrs in the runoff.
Wreathing the sewer grates leaves dwell mournful.
Yellow primrose doze along the vinyl fence.
Sirens shriek to a donated plot.
Even now, you are being forgotten.
