(I did write both poems before midnight on April 12th, but didn't get posted until the 13th! Eeeek! The words and pictures were not cooperating tonight.)
We
took a trip up to see the beautiful Skagit Valley Tulip Festival today. It goes
all the month of April and never fails to amaze me even though I’ve been many
times. The second poem comes from the walkways up there and my son was
fascinated with them---many of the children were. They are seemingly cracked,
but spongy and bouncy.
Transcendent
Tulips
Caught
in the rush
My
face full flush
Turned
into the sun
The
tulips run
Forever
into the horizon
Color
completed 1 Nisan
Here
painted into the earth’s fabric
An
awakening white tantrism
Giving
in to the unraveling
Of
spring hovering, rattling
All
that screams “rest me!”
Compounded
with fresh air tests
The
squeezing in my chest
Against
the fray’s current
Obsessing
on circumstances weren’t
I
let go into the field
Fervid
fever of fancy I yield
Yellow,
pink, purple, red,
Where
you have lead
I
will go with the flow
I
know and lo!
I’m
on the mend
Dry
Mud Pie Trails
My
boy bounces on his toes
Over
a mound of earth
“It’s
cracked earth, like the desert scorched,”
He
believes the hot sun has done this
Though
we’ve hauled him out of mucky mud puddles
And
avoided the squishy earth that wants to suck us down
He
dances over these cracked plots
Testing
the buoyancy in one spot
Kicking
up clods
Like
it is his job
To
make a new road
That
is smoother
And
easier for us to walk
He
is serious and ignores
The
beauty all around
In
favor of this one cracked space beneath his feet
“It
is springy, yeah, underneath there” he states again and again
As
we point out the color streaming around
In
the flower’s finest hour
We
take pictures of this plant that will die in minutes
As
he talks about what will last
The
mud, the earth, and the thing the flowers are planted in
It
never goes away
He
knows what is important
And
that is what holds his concentration
Despite
our loud shouts
Of
what is beauty?
He
finds distinction
In
the ordinary place
A
bit cracked and dry
With
a bounce unusual
He
imagines the possibility
Underneath
the common ground
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