Honeysuckle just goes for it— autumn’s last green thing flaunts the first green of spring, whereas maples and buckeyes, whom I favor, bleed their way slowly back, leaf buds red and waxing while spring spills over the fields like morning light, like a clear day, finally, after a yawning stretch of gray, and I spill breath into the air, will green things to sip it up. I try to pour it down to clover and gasp it high up to the canopy, try to sidestep the too-easy green that sprawls and pushes against the margins. I’m loathe to say anyone doesn’t belong, but loathe, too, to watch one kind of creature gorge on light while others parch in the growing shadows. The mosses are thirsty, and wild onions and toothworts deserve to taste the sun.
This feels like such a lovely, soothing, gentle, reassuring poem to read, especially in a moment of so much change! I love the image of leaves yawning open. Beautiful, A!
Your metaphors of rest and blanketing, waking, stretching, yawning are so lovely and comforting! I too feel kindred with trees...not surprised that you do, too <3
This is a wonderful poem, A. What a lovely dream, to become a tree when your journey in this realm closes. I love the last line "I have yet to meet one that I didn't admire." What a fine final line. May your roots continue to grow deeper.
I love this! I am not only the front desk/directors asst but also a "floater" in our preschool.
Their current unit is plants and with your permission I would love to print this out to put in our teacher's lounge for them. I think it would likely skim right over the little heads of the 3 and 4 year olds but the adults would appreciate it.
I love how this poem holds space for me to feel absolutely everything, Larry! And I have such a swirl of feelings at the moment - grief and anger and horror over "this unholy hurricane," but I also feel your ending stanza so deeply. "I am walking slowly to glimpse the beauty" - what a powerful line and what a powerful and necessary practice. Thank you for this sharing this!
Sorrowful and beautiful, Larry. I love the way in which your response to the damage and destruction is to slow down and notice the beauty that remains. Embracing the both/and of it all is not always easy, but it's a big part of what enables one to bear what's happening. Thank you for witnessing and naming it.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Keith. It is difficult not to be mired in the heartbreak, cruelty, destruction and horror coming from the Trump/Musk/Vance/GOP regime and all the toxicity and recklessness they are unleashing every single hour. Our theme for this Christian Lenten season is "Finding Beauty in a Broken World," borrowing a title from a wonderful book by Terry Tempest Williams, and we are lifting up the beauty we are finding in our lives. It helps.
Recklessness is an apt term. And yes...the pace of their chaos and the corresponding destruction and collateral damage are staggering. Thanks for telling me about the Tempest Williams book, I will try to get my hands on a copy. Your congregation is lucky to have you (and probably you them, too)!
Your poem is a gorgeous metaphor for the current sociopolitical landscape! And your imagery is delicious ("spring spills over the fields like morning light...after a yawning stretch of gray"). Swoon-worthy <3<3<3.
Here is my song of the underdog, an ode to the humble skunk cabbage:
Unfurling out of marshy ground, they lie
malodorous and maligned, designed
to attract nature’s most primitive
creatures, the kind that dance
with delight at the sight and stench
of their uncomely features.
A skunky array of muddy maroon blooms that rise
from the mud in putrid bouquet of death and decay,
The skunk cabbage is new to me, and I can think of no better way to have been introduced than through your wonderful poem! This ending will linger with me - "But the superficial is so often a disguise / that belies the depth and breadth of roots / nourishing an astonishing continuity, an ability / to endure predation of every conceivable guise, / and return year after year in perpetuity, / somehow maintaining an element of surprise." May everyone who is currently under assault/predation and those who care about them embody the skunk cabbage in this way!
Thank you, A. They really are remarkable plants and only really smelly if they're stepped on or injured. Indigenous folks have used them medicinally for ages.
This is an epic poem, Keith. I personally love skunk cabbage, a frequent plant in the wilds of the Virginia Mountauins in my hiking days there. I smiled when i see that you rfecently lifted the funky plants up! I like your whole poem, and find great depth in it, as these words illustrate: "But the superficial is so often a disguise/that belies the depth and breadth of roots/nourishing an astonishing continuity,..."This rings so true and clear to me. Thank you for your continued journeying into the edges of the world, wild and otherwise, as you bring the whole of who and what we are into the light.
Thank you so much for this kind feedback, Larry! Few things make my heart happier than early signs of spring. It's a muddy, messy time, but so full of promise and inspiring examples of resurrection, resilience, reclamation!
What a gem of a poem, Lisa. I love where you made your way to, and the incredibly vivid and beautiful way you describe the living and world arund you. Not to mention the creative spirit that led you along the way. I thought of a David Wilcox song called "Single Candle,", which started out as a song for a friend and ended up a song for Martin Luther King, Jr. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eanfapiUGA
This is so moving, Karri! I like the cadence and the way you use “not yet” to frame each stanza. I really like the ending and the push and pull between winter and spring, and the gentle grace you offer to yourself.
Hello all; I had dipped my toe back in a month or so ago and then was MIA again. Its been a difficult time for me lately. Sailing along fine to the unsuspecting viewer of my life but internally struggling. I had started this poem some time back when spring was the subject and honestly, I could have hung out in winter for several more months....I finished it today.
...
“Not yet,” I whisper
As the days begin to warm,
Chilly mornings giving way to
Preternaturally balmy afternoons.
....
“Not yet,” I whisper
As the daffodils appear overnight,
Their bright yellow trumpets
Heralding the arrival of spring.
....
“Not yet,” I whisper,
As the pages on the calendar turn
To a new month with expectations
Of rebirth and new beginnings.
....
“Not yet!” I whisper more loudly,
Beginning to panic, my pleas becoming more urgent as I try to explain.
“I want to stay here,
In the comfort of the dark,
And the warmth of the cold,
Insulated by layers of
Thoughts and feelings which wound tightly,
Dare not unfurl toward the surface
To seek the light.”
.....
Then that Voice, so often described as still and small,
This is so beautiful, Karri! I love the repeated whisper of "not yet," with its building urgency, and then the gentle response of the final stanza. I can really relate to this - not so much in terms of the coming of spring in this particular moment but rather in terms of many other moments in my life when I've felt myself called toward a particular sort of becoming, and all I've wanted was to retreat back into the shadows of the familiar.
I love the little rhyming moments in the first stanza! Like thing/spring, day/gray, and how the last few stanzas lose that as the poem gets into the more serious point.
This is such a powerful poem, Lisa. I love how poetry reveals our hearts and surprises us. On the surface this is such a simple poem yet its depths reveal such a powerful complexity.
Thank you, friend! I love that about poetry, too. It's hard for me to imagine being in the world without writing poetry now - how would I know myself??
I love how your poem so beautifully illustrates the way greed can overtake the abundance that naturally belongs to all beings and is meant to be shared. Certainly resonant considering... well, everything.
I've been obsessed with dark-eyed juncos these last few days. They are a squat, mostly ground-based sparrow that really don't get any credit in the bird world. I mean come on, even their name sounds like junk. But they have such a lovely ringing song and to me, they sound exactly like spring.
Lisa, I actually just listened to your reading of this lovely poem, and it brought whole new dimensions hearing it read and spoken aloud. I love that you do this sometimes, and hope you keep it up. The combination of your poetic creativity and your sincere and authentic voice help me navigate these perilous times. Thank you!
“When abundance is hoarded, it generates scarcity. “ so much wisdom in this small sentence. Thank you❤️❌⭕️
Thank you, Debbi! I’m glad it struck a chord.
When I die, I want to become a tree.
.
I can already feel my roots growing deeper
as my branches reach upward and out
to meet the sun, yawning open the leaves
that will soak up its shine and offer shade
to whatever beings are beneath my canopy,
and shedding them when it's time to rest
beneath snowy blankets. I think I might miss
them, a little - the blankets, I mean - when
it is time to stretch and reach upward again, but I won't fret, because each of the seasons greets me so differently, and do you know?
.
I have yet to meet one I that I didn't admire.
This feels like such a lovely, soothing, gentle, reassuring poem to read, especially in a moment of so much change! I love the image of leaves yawning open. Beautiful, A!
Your metaphors of rest and blanketing, waking, stretching, yawning are so lovely and comforting! I too feel kindred with trees...not surprised that you do, too <3
"I have yet to meet one that I didn't admire." - lovely end. Lovely poem!
This is a wonderful poem, A. What a lovely dream, to become a tree when your journey in this realm closes. I love the last line "I have yet to meet one that I didn't admire." What a fine final line. May your roots continue to grow deeper.
Within the seed
Is the essence in full
Of the flower
Patiently occupying space
Until warmth and light
Provides the blanket
Of security
So that it may
SPRING forth in the world
Generating more seeds
Before withering away
A successful link
In the continuing chain
Of life
What a gorgeous description of the way life returns over and over again! 🌱
I love this! I am not only the front desk/directors asst but also a "floater" in our preschool.
Their current unit is plants and with your permission I would love to print this out to put in our teacher's lounge for them. I think it would likely skim right over the little heads of the 3 and 4 year olds but the adults would appreciate it.
Following our Sunday services, our community is finding small moments to breathe between the madness.
Shadow Wind
^
Cold artic wind blows through
Every layer I can muster.
It’s as if the spirits of the universe
Know the freeze that is to fall.
^
In the woods strewn along the trail
twigs, branches and whole trees
felled by unrelenting force of the
shadow wind that claims our home.
^
We pick up the pieces to clear the trail,
to gather for fires, or for stick homes,
mindful that in the time to come we may be called
to pick up the debris of this unholy hurricane.
^
Noble dreams and long delayed promises,
vanishing like the bison on the mountain plains;
Or the dusky gopher frog with pine forests shrinking
their underground homes not safe from the carnage.
^
In a broken world where so much is shattered,
I am walking slowly to glimpse the beauty,
found in the smallest flower, the sweetest bird song,
the quiet and silent exchange between those who have discovered love.
I love how this poem holds space for me to feel absolutely everything, Larry! And I have such a swirl of feelings at the moment - grief and anger and horror over "this unholy hurricane," but I also feel your ending stanza so deeply. "I am walking slowly to glimpse the beauty" - what a powerful line and what a powerful and necessary practice. Thank you for this sharing this!
Thank you Lisa, for your comment and your marvelous inspiration!
Haunting, full of loss, but also of hope...
"We pick up the pieces to clear the trail,
to gather for fires, or for stick homes,
mindful that in the time to come we may be called
to pick up the debris of this unholy hurricane."
....a reminder that all storms must pass, even the one we find ourselves in the midst of now.
Thank you Karrie for your insightful, kind and gracious note!
Sorrowful and beautiful, Larry. I love the way in which your response to the damage and destruction is to slow down and notice the beauty that remains. Embracing the both/and of it all is not always easy, but it's a big part of what enables one to bear what's happening. Thank you for witnessing and naming it.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Keith. It is difficult not to be mired in the heartbreak, cruelty, destruction and horror coming from the Trump/Musk/Vance/GOP regime and all the toxicity and recklessness they are unleashing every single hour. Our theme for this Christian Lenten season is "Finding Beauty in a Broken World," borrowing a title from a wonderful book by Terry Tempest Williams, and we are lifting up the beauty we are finding in our lives. It helps.
Recklessness is an apt term. And yes...the pace of their chaos and the corresponding destruction and collateral damage are staggering. Thanks for telling me about the Tempest Williams book, I will try to get my hands on a copy. Your congregation is lucky to have you (and probably you them, too)!
What a tender, beautiful ending to this poem, Larry.
Thank You A. It’s a work in progress!
Your poem is a gorgeous metaphor for the current sociopolitical landscape! And your imagery is delicious ("spring spills over the fields like morning light...after a yawning stretch of gray"). Swoon-worthy <3<3<3.
Here is my song of the underdog, an ode to the humble skunk cabbage:
Unfurling out of marshy ground, they lie
malodorous and maligned, designed
to attract nature’s most primitive
creatures, the kind that dance
with delight at the sight and stench
of their uncomely features.
A skunky array of muddy maroon blooms that rise
from the mud in putrid bouquet of death and decay,
drawing to their breasts beetles and flies
that advance beyond their spongy hooded spathes.
Once inside and hidden away, the invaders prey
on spiny spadixes. Buzzing blissfully,
they feast and bathe languidly
in the warm, moist air
of the innermost lair of this gracious host,
this humble perennial that, to most,
may seem offensive and undesirable.
But the superficial is so often a disguise
that belies the depth and breadth of roots
nourishing an astonishing continuity, an ability
to endure predation of every conceivable guise,
and return year after year in perpetuity,
somehow maintaining an element of surprise.
The skunk cabbage is new to me, and I can think of no better way to have been introduced than through your wonderful poem! This ending will linger with me - "But the superficial is so often a disguise / that belies the depth and breadth of roots / nourishing an astonishing continuity, an ability / to endure predation of every conceivable guise, / and return year after year in perpetuity, / somehow maintaining an element of surprise." May everyone who is currently under assault/predation and those who care about them embody the skunk cabbage in this way!
Thanks, friend <3
I confess, I had to google the skunk cabbage; in doing so, I learned of the root's medicinal qualities!
Yes! They are wonderfully medicinal, used to treat many things.
What a wonderful ode. I don't think I've ever come across a skunk cabbage, but now I want to.
Thank you, A. They really are remarkable plants and only really smelly if they're stepped on or injured. Indigenous folks have used them medicinally for ages.
This is an epic poem, Keith. I personally love skunk cabbage, a frequent plant in the wilds of the Virginia Mountauins in my hiking days there. I smiled when i see that you rfecently lifted the funky plants up! I like your whole poem, and find great depth in it, as these words illustrate: "But the superficial is so often a disguise/that belies the depth and breadth of roots/nourishing an astonishing continuity,..."This rings so true and clear to me. Thank you for your continued journeying into the edges of the world, wild and otherwise, as you bring the whole of who and what we are into the light.
Thank you so much for this kind feedback, Larry! Few things make my heart happier than early signs of spring. It's a muddy, messy time, but so full of promise and inspiring examples of resurrection, resilience, reclamation!
"I’m loathe to say
anyone doesn’t belong,
but loathe, too,
to watch one kind of creature
gorge on light
while others parch
in the growing shadows."
Wonderful analogy Lisa to the ever growing disparity in our country.
simply beautiful
Thank you, Sam! 💚
What a gem of a poem, Lisa. I love where you made your way to, and the incredibly vivid and beautiful way you describe the living and world arund you. Not to mention the creative spirit that led you along the way. I thought of a David Wilcox song called "Single Candle,", which started out as a song for a friend and ended up a song for Martin Luther King, Jr. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eanfapiUGA
What a beautiful song - and I love the way he introduces it! Thank you, not for the first time, for introducing me to something beautiful, Larry!
You are welcome, Lisa’.
This is so moving, Karri! I like the cadence and the way you use “not yet” to frame each stanza. I really like the ending and the push and pull between winter and spring, and the gentle grace you offer to yourself.
Hello all; I had dipped my toe back in a month or so ago and then was MIA again. Its been a difficult time for me lately. Sailing along fine to the unsuspecting viewer of my life but internally struggling. I had started this poem some time back when spring was the subject and honestly, I could have hung out in winter for several more months....I finished it today.
...
“Not yet,” I whisper
As the days begin to warm,
Chilly mornings giving way to
Preternaturally balmy afternoons.
....
“Not yet,” I whisper
As the daffodils appear overnight,
Their bright yellow trumpets
Heralding the arrival of spring.
....
“Not yet,” I whisper,
As the pages on the calendar turn
To a new month with expectations
Of rebirth and new beginnings.
....
“Not yet!” I whisper more loudly,
Beginning to panic, my pleas becoming more urgent as I try to explain.
“I want to stay here,
In the comfort of the dark,
And the warmth of the cold,
Insulated by layers of
Thoughts and feelings which wound tightly,
Dare not unfurl toward the surface
To seek the light.”
.....
Then that Voice, so often described as still and small,
Whispers back
“That season is over.
It is time for moving on.
Please come,
But in your own time.
Give yourself grace,
And permission to begin again and again.
The world will be here,
Waiting.
When you are ready.”
...
Karri Temple Brackett
03/24/25
This is so beautiful, Karri! I love the repeated whisper of "not yet," with its building urgency, and then the gentle response of the final stanza. I can really relate to this - not so much in terms of the coming of spring in this particular moment but rather in terms of many other moments in my life when I've felt myself called toward a particular sort of becoming, and all I've wanted was to retreat back into the shadows of the familiar.
I love the little rhyming moments in the first stanza! Like thing/spring, day/gray, and how the last few stanzas lose that as the poem gets into the more serious point.
Thank you very much, Jacklyn! I really appreciate your thoughtful feedback!
This is such a powerful poem, Lisa. I love how poetry reveals our hearts and surprises us. On the surface this is such a simple poem yet its depths reveal such a powerful complexity.
Thank you, friend! I love that about poetry, too. It's hard for me to imagine being in the world without writing poetry now - how would I know myself??
I know!
Lovely poem, Lisa! Full of life 💚
Thank you so much, Caroline! ❤️🍀
I love how your poem so beautifully illustrates the way greed can overtake the abundance that naturally belongs to all beings and is meant to be shared. Certainly resonant considering... well, everything.
Thank you, friend!
I've been obsessed with dark-eyed juncos these last few days. They are a squat, mostly ground-based sparrow that really don't get any credit in the bird world. I mean come on, even their name sounds like junk. But they have such a lovely ringing song and to me, they sound exactly like spring.
.
Stubby little ringer of primordial landlines,
the kind that bump up out of the earth
to trill the mud that clots my driveway,
to thrill the blood that coats my core.
.
Said junco to the slushbound forest:
Spring is calling. It’s for you.
Ohhh! Your final line made me squeal aloud with delight. This is so charming.
Lisa, I actually just listened to your reading of this lovely poem, and it brought whole new dimensions hearing it read and spoken aloud. I love that you do this sometimes, and hope you keep it up. The combination of your poetic creativity and your sincere and authentic voice help me navigate these perilous times. Thank you!
Thank you so much, Larry! I'll keep it up for sure.