I’ve been working on a series of paintings with ferns as the subject, and along the way, I was inspired to write a poem called Song of the Ferns. That poem is now layered beneath each painting in the series—woven in as part of the foundation and the story they tell.

Song of the Ferns

The ferns grow wild where the shade runs deep,
Their fiddleheads gently unfurl.
Gracefully arching their fronds to the sky,
Then bowing them down to the earth.

Delicate, ancient, enduring and green,
Lush and abundant and strong,
Lacy and magical verdantly sing
A hopeful resilient song.

Quiet and airy their chorus then rises,
An elegant flourishing hymn.
Dappled light, casting shadows cannot keep them silent
From raising their praises again.

Whom are they praising? Creator of All.
The Maker of forest and grove.
Their notes lifting higher, spiraling skyward,
A canticle bursting with love.

©Mary Martin
06-07-2025