Today some thoughts on Spring in the form of poetry with a few photos too.
The Sisterhood (a prose poem)
Perhaps it’s because of my name that I feel such a kinship with flowers. I notice them like my husband notices vintage cars. Their colorful allure tugs at my camera — snap, snap, adjust, focus …snap. I need to own them, take them home.
There I parade them on my computer screen in all their bearded, belled and bonneted beauty. I enlarge them to look deep inside their secret rooms. I admire this pink rhodo’s wine freckles and that one’s variegated peach-to-cream petals. My currant’s blossoms have blood-red anthers on needle-slim stamens. These hydrangeas are filigree that could tiara a bride. Jester tulips and pinwheel petunias make me grin. And see those magnolias? They’re opening like one peels a banana!
I spend a couple of garden hours on Saturday settling Impatiens, Nicotiana and Dusty Miller for the summer. After the long winter exile, it feels like a family reunion.
© Violet Nesdoly (2012)
vanilla fudge, lemon chiffon
magnolias bloom
This poem wakes earlier
This poem wakes earlier than it did a month ago
rising at 6 when the sky turns pink.
This poem’s morning walk is noisy with birdsong
and a confusion of downy ducklings
foraging among lily pads, a line of fuzzy goslings
swimming between proud mama and hissing papa.
If this poem had a flag it would be forsythia yellow
and hyacinth blue.
Its perfumes would include
Wisteria, Lilac, tree bud and Wild Rose.
This poem is blushing pink then turning green.
It’s noticing all kinds of spaces filling up
with green, anticipating many months
of living behind the park’s green screen.
and seeing that the garden is also turning
a very weedy green.
This poem has discarded its heavy gloves
and jacket, but not its raincoat.
It’s trying to forget about snow
by planning a beach vacation.
On the next fine Saturday it will probably
wash patio furniture and buy a new deck umbrella.
This poem now eats supper by daylight
then goes out in the evening walking or biking.
Truth is it is finding the months of April and May
very much to its liking.
© Violet Nesdoly (2015)
Violet Nesdoly 