Spring
On welcoming beauty when the heart wants to hide
Spring after James Pearson How can I love this spring when winter still holds hate quivering in its jaws, holds hope frozen in fear, hunts the human heart like a soft trembling rabbit? I only want to be a bee among bees tumbled from sleep by the warm scent of lilacs on an unsuspecting breeze, belonging itself into this beautiful, troubled world as though blossoms might hold the answer.
Here we are on the cusp of spring again here in Greece and the wildflowers are beginning to riot everywhere. After a season of extreme rainfall, shades of green are greener than I can remember. Apple, almond and cherry blossoms are beginning to bud and flirt in pale pinks, fuchsia pinks and peach-edged creams. There is wild leek to be pulled and sautéed, wild fennel fronds to scissor onto a salad of dandelion suns and leaves. And the bees and birds are here to greet it all and play their part in its flourish. There is already so much beauty and more to come.
And yet how can we meet it and love it when we are still in a season of senseless strife and war? There are many things we can’t control, but we can choose what to love in the world, what to give our attention to, what to nourish. We can choose to dance with the world just as it is.
Last week I attended a beautiful and deeply inspiring conversation between poets James Crews and James Pearson on Crews’ The Monthly Pause, where Pearson read from his book, The Wilderness That Bears Your Name. His poem, “This Spring” inspired my own poem above. I’m grateful for the ways poetry sparks refection and offers an invitation to respond in our own way in our own words. Thank you James and James!
What ways do you find yourself dancing with the world just as it is? Let me know in the comments.
Come celebrate National Poetry Month with me!
There is still time to sign up for my April Writing Series! If you enjoy what I share here, you will find thoughtfully curated writing invitations just like these throughout the month of April.
30 days/30 writing invitations/$30
With live Zoom readings every Saturday, where you can gather and share in a supportive community. Readings are recorded for registered participants who are unable to attend.
I hope you’ll join us!
Thanks for taking the time to read The Poet’s Circle. Your presence here is welcome and deeply appreciated.
With Gratitude,
Be Wrung My Heart
Glory be to God for textiles,
Towels and spring-like things.
My washcloth, dry and green,
You greet me mornings
Upon your own steel rung,
Singing of wash and water.
Into my outstretched hands,
My rag of splash and laughter,
My song of a brand new day.
Long I wait for warmer water,
Soak, then slap you to my
Bleary face, my blinking eyes,
My skull grown long and grim.
Wrap you round my neck
And douse my thinning hair,
Till dripping, winning, won, I
Turn to tub and shake away
All of yesterday’s cares - as
Drops a dog onto his paws and
Wriggles himself magnificent.
Thus spun, the drying begun,
I pick you up, my sopping rag,
Wring you like my hoary heart,
Hang you slack once more
Upon your steadfast rack,
And hope tomorrow I’ll be back.
It was -8 degrees Fahrenheit this am and we still have 2-3 feet of snow on the ground so Spring is still a distant dream. Loved your poem and I have so enjoyed James Pearson’s book. How great to have both James together!