No matter that the basement is still wet from the flood, and the gutter is falling like the coming snow. No matter that the groundhog saw his shadow or that mine went missing in endless gray, I went walking in the too-cold wind saw two kestrels and two coyotes, and the world’s most improbable dandelion, golden face, petaled mane Aslan come to save us from winter’s dark magic or from ourselves, we, who summoned the roaring.
"We who summoned the roaring." That lands as some sort of heavy, yet liberating truth for me. Perhaps we summon the roaring to seek liberation on some darkly magical level. Here's what came to me out of your invitation to play with internal weather:
What a beautiful description of an inner weather system that so many of us are experiencing right now! I loved “the sun cannot be snuffed,” and then the ending is just stunning, Keith. “Merely an eclipse of a more enduring magnificence.” I love that so much all I can think to do is tack on a bunch of heart emojis 💚💚💚
Thanks so much, friend. I love the heart emojis 💚💚💚...and I'm so glad it was relatable! Also so glad I slowed myself down enough today to let it hatch...a variation on the internal weather system is that it blows me like a tumbleweed through the day, making it hard to stay or find any focus.
Wow, Keith. This is an epic poem. Your winding of weather motifs through your emotional joujrney in a given period is truly remarkable. " Suspended, like a bank of clouds/Looming swollen, swarming and loud/with locusts./A shelf to be stooped under/ to avoid banging my head." that is one example of your creagtive and masterful weaving of meterological language with the language of heart and spirit. Just splendid!
Ditto to what Keith said - and to what your poem expresses! I’m startled over and over again by how different I feel if I simply step outside, “good” weather or “bad.” I really do think the earth wants to be witnessed and appreciated.
This is a beautiful noticing, A. And I love your empathy for how the earth and the world might suffer from our neglect. I can really identify with how much better connection with fresh air and the natural world, which I constantly forget is my true habitat, makes me feel. On that note, I'm heading outside ; )
I love this poem, A. I agree with Keith and Lisa, the simple notiuon of stepping outside and how that can change our state is remarkable, and you capture it so well. The ending is so superb:
"There are heaps of snow out my window/I have only set foot in to trudge to the bus,/but I am grateful for every day that I get/to bring my child back home from school,/and I couldn't help but notice how, on those/days that I have stood outside awaiting/her return, feet on the earth, breath clouding,/everything is somehow more manageable."
I so appreciatre your connection to nature, family, daily living and your own heart and spirit.
So creative, Rebekah! Truly the most sublime and splendid poem written about snow in the annals of the white stuff! Your ending brings the poem to a perfect close: We surrender, please be/white flag, please be/ring to kiss. All we ask is/not to burn. " Indeed! As we move around these days with massive snow banks, your poem somehow makes it a bit more livable!
I'm glad to hear you're out of the hospital now rather than in, Jim, but I'm so sorry to hear you had to be there at all! I wish you a speedy recovery. This poem is just beautiful. These lines really strike me - "no blame just realty / for the strange child / always experiencing / the billions of vibrations / of the web of my consciousness." Beautiful. Tell that sweet, strange child I say hello.
I’m not secretive about what is going on health wise but wanted to share the inspiration for the poem. The stay was horrible and I suffered greatly. Why? BOREDOM. I HATE BOREDOM. The main reason for the hospitalization was for flu. Of course they always find other issues that I won’t bore you with but everything appears to be moving along in a salubrious manner. I’m very lucky that here in Tucson they have an excellent VA. Thank you for the good wishes.
Thank you for sharing, Jim. It has been a terrible flu season here in New England. I hear you about boredom in the hospital and I can relate. I hope you and I can avoid them as much as possible. Take care.
I love that way of framing it! I definitely felt delight when I found it. In a way I think there's not a whole of difference between deep noticing and gratitude.
“What a strange fate that the lowest hanging fruit of small talk should become such a big and essential conversation.” This is such irony! Never thought of it before but it’s so true!
This is breathtaking—a gentle, defiant reminder that even in the coldest, grayest moments, wonder still insists on being seen. Your words feel like a warm hand on a frostbitten heart, guiding us back to the magic we forgot we needed.
This is one of those poems that creates a little shift inside me that I can't quite name or explain. Like it's set me into some mood or state that can be felt but not named. The repeated images of sharpness - "sharp white line," "sharp response," "green swords," "shoots," "spears" really stand out to me and do so much to shape that mood, I think. This is beautiful, Margaret Ann!
Thank you, Lisa! You set this into motion with your prompt. There were so many different places I could go with it (and hopefully I’ll remember to return to the prompt and try some different paths). There are so many beautiful ones in these comments.
This is a beautiful poem Margaret Ann. I really like how you begin with a focus on your own mental health, and move so gracefully into your son and daughter’s navigation of time and space. As a parent, I feel the love and empathy in your words as you write about your children, and yourself. So very nice!
It frustrates me how I so often can not find words to do justice to the feelings that other people's words have given me. If I don't comment on your poems regularly, that's why. But I at least want to say that I love this, Lisa.
Thank you, A! And I can really relate to this experience. I love reading the poems in these comments threads so much but never feel like my responses are adequate to my feelings.
Lisa, I love this poem. This line made me laugh, smile and wonder: "No matter that the groundhog
saw his shadow/or that mine went missing/in endless gray..." Your poems set or interacting in nature and the outdoors are so lovely, lyrical, lightand full of substance and depth. And your prompts are full of invitation and heart. Thinking of you all in the new "normal" for Kentucky and us all!
This is beautiful. I love “let tree be ground be sky” and then that gut punch of an ending.
"We who summoned the roaring." That lands as some sort of heavy, yet liberating truth for me. Perhaps we summon the roaring to seek liberation on some darkly magical level. Here's what came to me out of your invitation to play with internal weather:
***
The low pressure front
settled silently as ash
in November’s dismal aftermath.
Smothering hope and suffocating freedom,
smashing illusions of easy breathing.
Then, it shifted.
Lifted and thickened.
Suspended, like a bank of clouds
Looming swollen, swarming and loud
with locusts.
A shelf to be stooped under
to avoid banging my head.
Still, It drops a millimeter here,
a centimeter there,
incrementally stoking my dread.
I feel the encroachment of its approach
Pulsing behind my eyes, aching in my face.
Pressing, oppressing, depressing
every last one of us,
Noxious and nebulous.
But the sun cannot be snuffed,
and this maleficence
is perhaps and probably ephemeral,
merely an eclipse
of a more enduring magnificence.
What a beautiful description of an inner weather system that so many of us are experiencing right now! I loved “the sun cannot be snuffed,” and then the ending is just stunning, Keith. “Merely an eclipse of a more enduring magnificence.” I love that so much all I can think to do is tack on a bunch of heart emojis 💚💚💚
Thanks so much, friend. I love the heart emojis 💚💚💚...and I'm so glad it was relatable! Also so glad I slowed myself down enough today to let it hatch...a variation on the internal weather system is that it blows me like a tumbleweed through the day, making it hard to stay or find any focus.
I am all too acquainted with that tumbleweed state!
Tumbleweed solidarity!
Wow, Keith. This is an epic poem. Your winding of weather motifs through your emotional joujrney in a given period is truly remarkable. " Suspended, like a bank of clouds/Looming swollen, swarming and loud/with locusts./A shelf to be stooped under/ to avoid banging my head." that is one example of your creagtive and masterful weaving of meterological language with the language of heart and spirit. Just splendid!
Thanks so much, Larry! I'm always grateful for your thoughtful and encouraging feedback. And I'm so glad you enjoyed this one!!
I track the week's weather in my journal,
doodles across pages saved for posterity
representing levels of temperature and
precipitation that never touched me.
It is too easy for me to forget to step outside
myself and feel the air on my skin, to turn my
chin toward the light, or lack of it, to face
whatever is happening in the world.
Perhaps this is why she is so full of ache
and burning; it is far too easy to ignore her
turning as we rise and grind and spend
the majority of our lives inside.
There are heaps of snow out my window
I have only set foot in to trudge to the bus,
but I am grateful for every day that I get
to bring my child back home from school,
and I couldn't help but notice how, on those
days that I have stood outside awaiting
her return, feet on the earth, breath clouding,
everything is somehow more manageable.
Ditto to what Keith said - and to what your poem expresses! I’m startled over and over again by how different I feel if I simply step outside, “good” weather or “bad.” I really do think the earth wants to be witnessed and appreciated.
This is a beautiful noticing, A. And I love your empathy for how the earth and the world might suffer from our neglect. I can really identify with how much better connection with fresh air and the natural world, which I constantly forget is my true habitat, makes me feel. On that note, I'm heading outside ; )
I love this poem, A. I agree with Keith and Lisa, the simple notiuon of stepping outside and how that can change our state is remarkable, and you capture it so well. The ending is so superb:
"There are heaps of snow out my window/I have only set foot in to trudge to the bus,/but I am grateful for every day that I get/to bring my child back home from school,/and I couldn't help but notice how, on those/days that I have stood outside awaiting/her return, feet on the earth, breath clouding,/everything is somehow more manageable."
I so appreciatre your connection to nature, family, daily living and your own heart and spirit.
This is obviously only about snow. ;)
.
We have been banking on you
since November, catching you in
low places, giving you holes to fill
.
until spackle splits the earth.
We invited you to smudge
the view: let tree be ground be sky.
.
We craved blunting blanket,
erasing pile. Our pact is
yes you may consume us, only later
.
don’t forget. We say stay, we let your
soft maw claim our feet, creep up
the siding, redact the windows,
.
recontour the grade we griped at
but can no longer quite recall.
We surrender, please be
.
white flag, please be
ring to kiss. All we ask is
not to burn.
Oh, this is gorgeous.
*Obviously* only about snow.
So creative, Rebekah! Truly the most sublime and splendid poem written about snow in the annals of the white stuff! Your ending brings the poem to a perfect close: We surrender, please be/white flag, please be/ring to kiss. All we ask is/not to burn. " Indeed! As we move around these days with massive snow banks, your poem somehow makes it a bit more livable!
Put up in the corner again
Forgotten as hung there
No blame just realty
For the strange child
Aways experiencing
The billions of vibrations
Of the web of my consciousness
Just out of hospital which took me so long to read your poem. I feel tiny footsteps on one of vibrational frequencies. Thank you for sharing.
I'm glad to hear you're out of the hospital now rather than in, Jim, but I'm so sorry to hear you had to be there at all! I wish you a speedy recovery. This poem is just beautiful. These lines really strike me - "no blame just realty / for the strange child / always experiencing / the billions of vibrations / of the web of my consciousness." Beautiful. Tell that sweet, strange child I say hello.
Thank you, so sweet. Just another experience along the path of being alive.
Thank you for sharing this, Jim. I hope the hospital stay was short and that you are in good health or moving in that direction.
I’m not secretive about what is going on health wise but wanted to share the inspiration for the poem. The stay was horrible and I suffered greatly. Why? BOREDOM. I HATE BOREDOM. The main reason for the hospitalization was for flu. Of course they always find other issues that I won’t bore you with but everything appears to be moving along in a salubrious manner. I’m very lucky that here in Tucson they have an excellent VA. Thank you for the good wishes.
Thank you for sharing, Jim. It has been a terrible flu season here in New England. I hear you about boredom in the hospital and I can relate. I hope you and I can avoid them as much as possible. Take care.
I don't know but to me there's a lot of gratitude in that "most improbable dandelion."
I love that way of framing it! I definitely felt delight when I found it. In a way I think there's not a whole of difference between deep noticing and gratitude.
I so agree.
“What a strange fate that the lowest hanging fruit of small talk should become such a big and essential conversation.” This is such irony! Never thought of it before but it’s so true!
Also I love the reference to Aslan… and how it is used. Genius.
Thank you, Korie! I was curious whether Aslan would be a readily understood reference for most people or not, and I’m glad it is for you!
This is breathtaking—a gentle, defiant reminder that even in the coldest, grayest moments, wonder still insists on being seen. Your words feel like a warm hand on a frostbitten heart, guiding us back to the magic we forgot we needed.
Thank you so much, Lysa! Your comment feels like a poem of its own! ❤️
Love this: “worlds most improbable dandelion”
Thank you, Angela! It was quite a surprise to find it peeking up from the mud between snowstorms.
The weather
.
"Take a moment," my therapist says. "Look outside
or stand outside, just for a moment. Take deep breaths."
So I do, facing the completely cloudless sky
the school roof a sharp white line against the blue.
.
"Do you think we’ll get snow again?" I asked
my middle son yesterday. "No," was his sharp response.
"I think it’s an early spring. Look at the sky," he said.
"And the temperatures are high. Winter is done."
.
On the way out to the car today, exhausted by meltdowns
and tears that flood my daughter’s dry winter
I see her stop and study the ground. The young tulips,
pushing through earth with green swords, impaled a dead leaf.
.
She studies the way the shoots sewed through the fragile skin,
through a leaf that blew in from some far off tree.
She touches the spears but doesn’t untangle the leaf
and then walks the rest of the way to the car.
This is one of those poems that creates a little shift inside me that I can't quite name or explain. Like it's set me into some mood or state that can be felt but not named. The repeated images of sharpness - "sharp white line," "sharp response," "green swords," "shoots," "spears" really stand out to me and do so much to shape that mood, I think. This is beautiful, Margaret Ann!
Thank you, Lisa! You set this into motion with your prompt. There were so many different places I could go with it (and hopefully I’ll remember to return to the prompt and try some different paths). There are so many beautiful ones in these comments.
This is a beautiful poem Margaret Ann. I really like how you begin with a focus on your own mental health, and move so gracefully into your son and daughter’s navigation of time and space. As a parent, I feel the love and empathy in your words as you write about your children, and yourself. So very nice!
Thank you, Larry. You always have such thoughtful things to say about each poem people share. I appreciate that so much.
You are welcome! The poems from this wonderful array of poets are so good!
Lisa, your poem gave me the best kind of goosebumps.
I'm so glad! I love it when a poem gives the good kind of goosebumps.
It frustrates me how I so often can not find words to do justice to the feelings that other people's words have given me. If I don't comment on your poems regularly, that's why. But I at least want to say that I love this, Lisa.
Thank you, A! And I can really relate to this experience. I love reading the poems in these comments threads so much but never feel like my responses are adequate to my feelings.
Lisa, I love this poem. This line made me laugh, smile and wonder: "No matter that the groundhog
saw his shadow/or that mine went missing/in endless gray..." Your poems set or interacting in nature and the outdoors are so lovely, lyrical, lightand full of substance and depth. And your prompts are full of invitation and heart. Thinking of you all in the new "normal" for Kentucky and us all!
Thank you so much, Larry! And thankfully the sun came out today, the snow is melting in earnest, and I found my shadow again.
Lisa, it is a very wider person who finds and knows their shadows.
This one took a while to emerge. I changed the music in my office from Bossa Nova to native flute, and this appeared.
Weather Report
^
Snow fog thins and lifts
as morning light beckons;
Only to reveal deep gray sky,
angry dark clouds over the
mountains to the northwest.
Where is the groundhog
when you need them?
^
Rising into a breathless cold,
old friend visiting
who has stayed too long.
Elder bones waxing and waning
a tired heart opens to a biter world,
searching desperately for the dreams
that always brought the sun into view.
^
Outside the realms of meterological realities
the heat is rising,
angry flames of a nation lost in hatred,
fear of every “other” that lives;
I pray for the clouds to part,
and for the rainbows to appear
just in time to guide us home.
This one packs a punch. Just beautiful. I’m so sick of winter but I want to summon a roar! 💛