The scent of Lilacs and fresh leaves reaches in through the window, bringing with it the coolness of star kissed midnight. I am alone in some ways, drifting already between reality and dream, between you and home and somewhere else. Life, possibilities, are just beyond my fingertips, just beyond the window frame, out where blossoms mingle with air, with sky and ozone and the otherness that is always beyond our four walls – any four walls. I lie here, silent, and contemplate timing, considering not if but when I will lift myself up, go into the night and embrace all that is out there.
the trees look different
suddenly vibrant, painted garish
against brilliant blue
once the somber birds of winter
spoke harsh truths there
now songbirds sing joy
to our fellowship’s sluggish revival.
dazed by office air, stale and cold,
I pass into the sun
the warmth is cloying
but soothes body and mind aches,
sky-depth widening my gaze,
I turn from inward to look beyond.
a bell rings through the silent neighbourhood —
the knife sharpeners of all our childhoods;
cardinals fleck the trees with their colour
calling to each other: Ma-rie! Pe-ter!
A team of boys practices soccer in the park
with a thunk-thwack of the ball, ringing laughter.
I recognize this season,
its spilling in and out of open doors
its jubilant gardens
like children, looking for places to explore.
Sometimes I am so lonely I bike home through downtown’s clogged and clanging streets
instead of taking gentle greenland passages along silent flowered waterways
instead of slipping unseen between twisting deserted neighbourhood corners —
but today I rode greenward, into honeyed air perfumed by blossoms
(lilac, cherry, crabapple, and gardens bursting with colour)
the forgotten familiar sweetness of summer drawing me out with its shy sun
drawing all of us into spaces shunned by winter’s isolation.
Something I wrote a few weeks ago, just as the weather began to turn, finally, from cold and dark to flower-filled lightness. I also wanted to revisit the long-lined poem style I had tried out as part of April’s GloPoWriMo.
sun slants low
draws a slow curve in the hazy clear-blue;
dandelion seeds and cherry blossoms
drift on breezes carrying cacophonies
symphonies of the new season –
ball-on-metal, voices raised, water splashing –
insect clouds sparkle and dance
shadowed against evening’s low light
everything is warm grass and blossom-scented;
this fresh, sun-kissed air melts
lingering memories of straying snowflakes
its warmth infusing even dreams
Summer is here. It perfumes the wind with jasmine, rose and coriander; scents anchored by rain and garden hoses.
But my bones, my skin — their memory stronger than my own — still recall the other side to this sunny Equinox; biting cold, the scent of snowflakes on a monochrome wind, Earth slumbering.
I close my eyes to the thought and breathe in this moment. In this moment, I live.
Another (lagging) entry to the Family Poetry Project. This time, the prompt is/was the phrase “I Live.”