Eniqsimus
for Comptonia peregrina
Eniqsimus.
The People call you,
literally, “ant tree.”
Sokoki Abenaki peoples say
aliksmozi.
So willing, and tough.
Fragrant, you fill the
summer air with green aroma,
spicy and sweet.
Unlike any other,
diminutive and useful,
rooted down in roadside soils,
you thrive.
Hardship a familiar friend.
Still here, like us.
Live, strive.
Still here.
Your scent, the oils you carry will
drive off the troublesome
ones who bite and bother.
Look closer, and consider the
spindly twisted stems, soft brown.
The leaves, darkened with sun touch,
fingers splayed and graceful in the
breeze that sways and spirals,
lifts that perfume to carry and
announce your presence.
Settlers called you sweet fern though
not a fern at all, just frond-like leaves,
alternate, oblong and elliptical.
They watched us make the tea,
burn the leaf, wrap the poultice.
These are holy things;
to remember, still, in these days when
the future feels so short and restless.
Copyright © 2026 by Mihku Paul. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 12, 2026, by the Academy of American Poets.
“As a Waponahki woman, I feel very connected to the natural world some call ‘Mother Earth’ and we call Skitkomiq. When I write about the inhabitants of these spaces, my intention is to express reverence, relationship, and cultural awareness in order to maintain those pathways that have been eroded through colonization and loss of connection to the flora and fauna that are part of the web of life. There is learning contained there and a continuity of spirit that is deeply sustaining. I aim to build the story in tiers or concentric rings that speak to biological, cultural, and historical realities that lead to deeper reflection. Knowing plants is an act of survival and love for us.”
—Mihku Paul
Mihku Paul
