So many kinds of apples, in sugar, scent, and blush — in a dream — as you undress — I see their orchards bloom.
Tag Archive for ‘Spring’
“The bird names have trapped me. They exist in a realm of unsolvable mysteries: the realm of nothing more than connotation. And yet I want to know what the bird behind each looks like. Why? I shouldn’t care.” Winter Trees † Feline huntress, dozing on the grass. Along the fence, a cortège of wary sparrows, each dark face a funeral card. On my lips, imagined bird names: Shwittl, Tikipap, […]
Dear crocus, sleeping in the morn — laughing later in the storm — my time to preach is past, but not my time to learn — or why — on earth — be born? Visions of Spring Our battered house tugs at its anchor in a sea of mud. In the galley, there are potatoes with bulging eyes, onions with hair, dwindling lumps of cheese and bread. From the […]
Noted on the next-to-last day of January, early in the evening after dark: the first spring chorus of frogs, rising from the rain-replenished Claggett Creek wetland. The next morning, a very strong southerly flow, upon it riding the deeper-further-farther river smell — and the welling sense of something else: the awakening multitude. Blooming by the wayside near the graveyard something someone softly said January 31, 2020
This has been a winter of books, and the kind of simple earthly pleasures that are priceless and free — a winter of clouds and ice and sun, of forest paths and waterfalls, of vanilla pages and chamomile grass and moss — a winter of Blake, Thoreau, and Don Quixote, of diaries and letters, and of all that lasts beyond its past and lights the present tense. And it’s not […]