Spring Rises:
Frost blooms to mud,
sap ascends,
steam billows;
syrup sweetens hope.
Hope is not the same as impatience
for snow to melt
or the hyacinth’s perfume.
Hope rises on wings,
sings,
nests,
raises young
again.
Spring Rises:
Frost blooms to mud,
sap ascends,
steam billows;
syrup sweetens hope.
Hope is not the same as impatience
for snow to melt
or the hyacinth’s perfume.
Hope rises on wings,
sings,
nests,
raises young
again.
Beautiful post/poetry.
Here on the Mojave Desert of southern California, we seem to have only summer and winter; spring and fall are times when summer and winter fight with gale-force winds and see-sawing temperatures. This year, most spring-like since 2008, water is running in the Mojave River, which is usually limited to trickles and mud puddles. Last weekend we had a family drive to see the blazing orange California poppies with lakes of Field of Gold and purple (forgot name)–equivalent of a New England autumn which I haven’t seen since 1959! Best of all, our Joshua trees are preparing to bloom. These tree-sized members of the lily family bloom only if enough rain has fallen at the right time, with huge clusters of bell-shaped white flowers. We have three on our property (only one tall enough for branches), and an undeveloped field of them across the road, some of which looked (in 2008) like giant menorahs.
We both miss apple orchards and coastal waters, but I don’t think there’s any place in God’s creation without some special beauty.
Beautiful, evocative poem and pictures. They brought me joy this bleary morning. Thank you.
Beautiful poem and pictures. It says it all.
Thanks, Deb. Good for morale. Especially the classic Mud Shot. Whose sugarhouse? Well done…..Castle
Deb, your ‘poem’ reminds me of one I wrote many years ago:
Spring Will Be
From stark, dark
winter’s cold
buds burst,
unfold,
red first;
chartreuse filigree,
emerald river,
moss greenery,
leafing tree.
From stark, dark
winter’s cold
spring will be.
Jean