Thursday, March 24, 2016

Daily Walk; looking around

Blooming now in an untended weedy patch by the street. 
Because of all the rain, there are all sorts of surprises on the daily walk.
Today's apricot iris is just one of them.


Every spring 
      the ambiguities 
         of childhood 

the hillsides grew white 
   with the wild trilliums. 
      I believed in the world. 
         Oh, I wanted 

to be easy 
   in the peopled kingdoms, 
      to take my place there, 
         but there was none 

that I could find 
   shaped like me. 
      So I entered 
         through the tender buds, 

I crossed the cold creek, 
   my backbone 
      and my thin white shoulders 
         unfolding and stretching. 

From the time of snow-melt, 
   when the creek roared 
      and the mud slid 
         and the seeds cracked, 

I listened to the earth-talk, 
   the root-wrangle, 
      the arguments of energy, 
         the dreams lying 

just under the surface, 
   then rising, 
         at the last moment 

flaring and luminous-- 
   the patient parable 
      of every spring and hillside 
         year after difficult year. 

Mary Oliver 

Dream Work, Atlantic Monthly Press, 2014, p.10.

This is quite a simple poem, arranged in indented four-line stanzas,
nine of them. Your task: look about and write your own springtime poem of about this length, using this form. Or invent a spring form of your own!

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