A poem
It is always a poignant thing when a crocus or any flower comes out too soon and we know it will be buried under feet of snow.
At least where you live! It’s quite rare in Missouri to see any snow the last 10 years after any flowers bloom…but I do love the crocus’s. First flash of color after the brown of winter.
Me too. We are moving to Connecticut in summer of 2025. Just in time because hours of shoveling snow is no longer much joy at 65.
There's a part of me that feels sad for the flowers when this happens. Like I want to scream at them "NO, YOU'RE TOO SOON! RETREAT!"
Exactly.
I like the imagery and visuals of these contrasting lines:
"and I take that step outside
and walk to that winter place
where I was surprised by spring."
Thanks Neil!
It reads like a dream, Brian. That winter place.
Thank you 🌙
How gentle this hard poem is. Hope and resignation, exhaustion and faith. Mother will take us to our limits before she’ll offer anything.
It’s a little bit of all of it, isn’t it? Thanks for reading Patris!
My garden looked like the aftermath of a nuclear strike until a few days ago..
This closing and the gap before the final line:
~~~
I am standing in a ruinous field,
winter fog enveloping destruction
and my fruitless hunt.
No flower grows here.
I'm finding it hard to articulate what it is that captures me so much here. I think it's the winding calm that comes before this moment.
Stunning poem, Brian. Sorry I can't offer more than that right now.
Thanks Nathan. The ride for me is calm reminiscing, desire, frantic search, grief. I always appreciate you commenting!
Stunning imagery. The crocus is used as a great foreshadowing tool! Excellent words!
Thank you for being here!
Thanks Daniel. I felt the same, glad you felt it too!
It is always a poignant thing when a crocus or any flower comes out too soon and we know it will be buried under feet of snow.
At least where you live! It’s quite rare in Missouri to see any snow the last 10 years after any flowers bloom…but I do love the crocus’s. First flash of color after the brown of winter.
Me too. We are moving to Connecticut in summer of 2025. Just in time because hours of shoveling snow is no longer much joy at 65.
There's a part of me that feels sad for the flowers when this happens. Like I want to scream at them "NO, YOU'RE TOO SOON! RETREAT!"
Exactly.
I like the imagery and visuals of these contrasting lines:
"and I take that step outside
and walk to that winter place
where I was surprised by spring."
Thanks Neil!
It reads like a dream, Brian. That winter place.
Thank you 🌙
How gentle this hard poem is. Hope and resignation, exhaustion and faith. Mother will take us to our limits before she’ll offer anything.
It’s a little bit of all of it, isn’t it? Thanks for reading Patris!
My garden looked like the aftermath of a nuclear strike until a few days ago..
This closing and the gap before the final line:
~~~
I am standing in a ruinous field,
winter fog enveloping destruction
and my fruitless hunt.
No flower grows here.
~~~
I'm finding it hard to articulate what it is that captures me so much here. I think it's the winding calm that comes before this moment.
Stunning poem, Brian. Sorry I can't offer more than that right now.
Thanks Nathan. The ride for me is calm reminiscing, desire, frantic search, grief. I always appreciate you commenting!
Stunning imagery. The crocus is used as a great foreshadowing tool! Excellent words!
Thank you for being here!
Thanks Daniel. I felt the same, glad you felt it too!