It seems to be a poem filled day today. I’m going to blame it on a serious outbreak of Spring Fever.
With blizzard warnings for Tuesday in New England I know that I won’t be sad to see Winter give way to Spring – I feel a little guilty for having Spring Fever though because Winter acted more like someone that shows up to work with a hangover than the bring the world to a stop with frozen everything boss that it usually is.
I read two very different but lovely poems today and it got me to thinking about the most thoughtful gift I have ever received in my life.
The first poem I read today was a weather inspired poem – I have to admit – weather poems are my absolute favorite. Weather has always fascinated me and apparently many of my formative years were at the same time that the Weather Channel became a thing on cable T.V. My mother had some bizarre phobias and warnings about what to do and what not to do during thunderstorms, but that is probably enough subject matter for it’s own entire blog post.
If you like Weather Poetry – or just poetry in general here is an awesome poem I read today that pitted Winter and Spring in an epic battle. I thoroughly enjoyed this poem.
The second poem I read was not weather related. Instead it was a few thoughtful lines that evoked two emotions – hopefulness at the exciting prospect of new romance, and hopelessness of accepting that an old romance has passed its time. Or maybe it’s not about romance at all, maybe it is symbolic of the comparisons between excitingly new and sadly fading. Either way – it made me feel happy and sad at the same time – which personally I am going to blame Spring Fever for those two warring emotions.
The post is titled – Just Something – by Rebecca
Hat’s off to both of you – I like to think of myself as a fairly brave person, but the thought of ever publishing a poem that I wrote for everyone to see makes my blood run cold!
So now to tell you about the absolute most thoughtful gift I have ever received. It was a poem. Many years ago, probably about 15 years ago give or take a year, my daughter Aimee had a book of poetry that I honestly can’t even remember where it came from – maybe school, maybe the library, I’m not sure. Her and I were going through the poems and I read one that became my favorite poem EVER! This poem pulled me at lightning speed to every summer day I had ever experienced from my earliest memories. I swear I could feel hot, dry summer sunshine on my skin. I could smell warm dusty baked earth. I could hear the hum of countless flying bugs…. I could go on and on. It was a magical.
I think it was two or three years ago Aimee gave me this poem – she hand wrote it out in lovely loopy summery feeling letters and framed it for me. I don’t even know where she found it again to copy it – when I just google searched it to write this post I couldn’t find it.
Summer Afternoon in Solon, Iowa
Cats, contagious with sleep, bake
on the back porch, and the wasp service
has arrived to inspect each grid
of the screens. Disguised as a weedlot,
the prairie – gouged, shorn, parceled out –
breaks into wildflowers and hums
at a pitch an octave above
the ordinary bliss of bees,
while behind the house, rusty train
tracks that stretch towards Nebraska
have lost their perspective
in the wind-winnowed air:
a vapor of hovering dragonflies
fanned to a glare by rising grackles,
as beetles drop into the world
like meteors armored in the mineral
gleam of a cosmic explosion.
Now, with green apples casting long shadows
that drench the grass; here,
on the rickety back porch held together
by the tangled twine of morning glories
a fly composes a sonata for the glass
harmonics of a windowpane
beneath which violets are arranged
in a stately row along the sill.
Each flowerpot contains its own horizon.
~ Stuart Dybek
Now I have never been to Iowa, but I have felt hot, dusty, dreamy, buggy, lazy summer days as they were meant to be felt – without cell phones, without clocks, without worries, with only the thoughts of almost sleeping daydreams.
My daughter gave me the gift of being able to have that feeling of every childhood summer memory I have with a copy of this poem that she and I read together one night a dozen years ago.
Thank you Aimee!!
I was going to try to crochet a Tiger Lily flower to include something crochety – but I really didn’t have time. Tiger Lily is my absolute favorite flower and I will be crocheting one at some point this summer. For now here is a picture of one – just because I like it and I’m dreaming of summer right now.
Thanks for reading – this was a pretty long post for me – I’m glad you got through to the end of it!