the cool, cool sunshinereminds me to breathe the spring,
feel the spring, find the
spring within me that
trickled defiantly through
winter's unseemly
drought. seamlessly, one
term becomes another, one
word becomes a song,
one day becomes the
spring i had forgotten, soft
unfolding of long
ago, belonging
to time and memory and
desire and only
me. if only, if
only...i could remember...
that one song, that one
single note, that one
word that makes it eternal.
it's gone, though, like blake's
ember: it flared once
and faded, as we all do.
instead, i seek the
spring that steadies me
another year, another
season. another
semester begins.
at least i know that even
the driest winter
cannot win complete.
there is a spring. i own it--
if only today.
Ah, Greta. It sounds like you're feeling a bit better, at least for the moment. I'm glad to hear it. Am I correct in guessing that you are not on campus today? Or perhaps the *snowflakes* aren't on campus, at least not in such plentiful numbers as before?
ReplyDeleteIt is amazing what distance and vodka can do. It's all about perspective--at least for this week.
DeleteThis is what your poem reminded me of (in a very good way):
ReplyDelete"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me."
-Emily Dickinson
BC, that is a compliment I don't deserve. I do love me some Miss Dickinson.
ReplyDeleteGreta, I would SO rather read your poetry than anything that gets published in The New Yorker. Keep it up.
ReplyDeleteThis was beautiful. I own it now, too!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Greta!
ReplyDelete