Cottonwood

Cottonwood

Cottonwood dangles her hundreds of hearts
out in the wind. They skim the roaring
of snow melt stream, flashing
darkness, pulsing light. 

I am trying to do the same, as if
my heart is slick and green,
as if there weren’t 
only the one. 

The Prompt

Sometimes it’s heartbreak that opens us to the world, and sometimes it’s joy. This past week, I was lucky enough to be open to joy and then opened by joy over and over and over. This has me reflecting on the magic and connection that’s possible when our hearts are open—as well as on the many reasons why that’s hard.

When you hear the word ‘heart,’ what comes up for you? Do your thoughts turn to your literal heart? The thousand things it does right, or the things that could go wrong? Or do you think of other definitions for the word—courage or enthusiasm, your innermost self, that tasty thing in the middle of an artichoke?

Take a moment to look at the many definitions our friend Merriam Webster offers up. Are the ways that you use or understand the word ‘heart’ that aren’t reflected on the list? Which meaning feels the most important or interesting to you right now? Spend some time exploring that meaning. Observe it in the world around you, in the stories that populate your mind, or within the sensations of your own body. What poem might want to pulse its way to the surface?

My heart is ready with a wide open welcome for whatever you’d like to share! Thank you so much for being here.

P.S. If you’d like to meet the Cottonwood who inspired this poem, here she is, on the banks of Clear Creek in Golden, CO.