#poemadayapril

[plants-in-the-clay]

While the world is dim

Foghorns bellow in the mist

Calling for the light

[plants-in-the-clay]

Today

The day was wet and cold

And the wind sliced like the wake of a ship

But the buds on the magnolias

Shook, but stayed stubborn

And the snowdrops dripped cheerfully

And the white sky could not dim

The whirl of giddy joy in me

[plants-in-the-clay]

She said to find

The tiny moments of joy in a day

The crocuses in a sunbeam

A poem tree, and a stranger

Reciting her long remembered verse

Glitter on the bus window

A birthday cinnamon roll

Leftovers in the fridge

Lying on the floor in the dark

Letting the snow globe flurry of the day settle

[plants-in-the-clay]

There is a holiness

To ordinary days

The unpretentious reverence

Of getting on one’s knees

For a dropped puzzle piece

A carrot peel

A bus ticket

To visit with a cat

Or tie shoes

Those are the most sacred things we can do

To kneel in the service of ordinary days

[plants-in-the-clay]

Purple crocus quilt

Draped over a pathetic smudge

Of dead grass and leaf litter

Stitching warmth

Back into the soggy ground

One glowing pistil at a time

Deflating like old balloons

After a single day

To join the worms below

[plants-in-the-clay]

I see the mini purple heads

Of grape hyacinths

Poke their heads out of the lawn

Haphazardly strewn about

Growing where they will

With no regard for garden bed borders

Yellowing to eventual oranging

Of the larger hyacinth

Shy heads of the irises cresting soil

I imagine their scent

Like sugar in the sun

The scent of spring

And I can’t wait for the lilacs to bloom

[plants-in-the-clay]

I met two kittens today

Warm and soft and floppy

Obsessed with the little red dot

And a paper bag on the floor

And I thought about how new they were

In this world of newness

And how some of the oldest things

Are still here

Like the ginkgo

Older than most animals and insects

Outliver of dinosaurs

Much much older than kittens

And still just an ordinary tree

On an ordinary street

With leaves that turn yellow every autumn

And flutter down for tiny kittens to play with

And stick to the sidewalk like every other tree

[plants-in-the-clay]

In each courageous spring bloom

The crocus in the snow

The forsythia and magnolia buds turning stubbonly yellow

Despite the damp chill

The squill with its blue stripes cuddled to the ground

There is the potential of summer

Late August flush

That gaudy bloom

The flagrant flaunting of their warmth and sunlight

Over abundance of wealth and crowded ballroom garden beds

The snowdrop drips

And the dandelion wiggles

And the hawkbit grits it’s mouthful of concrete

And says

Don’t forget that we clawed you spring

And made the ground soft

And the wind forgiving

Think of us in the summertime

[plants-in-the-clay]

I was asked to picture myself

Hollow

And to imagine the golden light

Of a spring sunset

Pouring into me

From the top of my head

All the way down

Into every aching gap of body

And to feel the warmth

Like sun dazzle on the backs of eyelids

Until I was (ful)filled

[plants-in-the-clay]

All the sweetness of the day

Is held in the last few minutes

Of sunlight

Pulled through the emerging leaves

Like threads of gold

Nectar sugar on the tongue

Lemonade spring

With the lingering chill

On your ears and eyebrows

But soon enough

It will be

Long evenings

And trees in bloom

Soft ground

Warm wind

And the days’ sweetness will last a little longer

[plants-in-the-clay]

Today I listened to a friend

Talk about clay as a time capsule

How the ceramic objects we make

Could last forever, on a human timescale

(Even if they are minuscule blips on a geologic timescale)

And how she created art about the future

To be preserved in this forever medium

Until that future

Or another

As a possible inspiration to those ahead

She’ll say “look

This is what we thought was possible

Even if we could never see it through

Maybe you can

Think of us

And how we dreamed of a better future”

[plants-in-the-clay]

Sunny Scilla

Squill struck

By an errant sunbeam

Slow

Like steps

With sore feet

Sweet sugar smell

Small and striking blue

[plants-in-the-clay]

The sky turned lavender pink

Today

Over the harbour

Filaments of salmon clouds

Scaled and wriggly

Floated past

And the window made the air look fuzzy and soft

Lilac sweet and pastel purple

Reflected lamplight stars

I took a deep breath of sunset

And swallowed the light into myself

[plants-in-the-clay]

Soap bubble moon

In the late evening light

Lingering in the spring sky

Candy drip drops on cascading leaves

Lush in the newness of the sun

Icy water washed roots drinking

And just enough warmth for them

[plants-in-the-clay]

A hand offered

Fingers on the shoulder blade

The inside of the upper arm

Much softer than expected

The press of a thigh

Feet flicking

Skirts swishing

Swaying together

Smiling

[plants-in-the-clay]

Today I was seen by a daffodil

It’s peers all turned their lovely faces to the south

And saluted the sun as it drenched them

But one amongst their ranks

Craned its neck to the northwest

To the cooler shaded side

And as I walked past

Nodded its bright head at me

And I nodded in return

Both acknowledging

That even in the sun

The chill is not gone from the nights

And it will not be summer

For a while yet