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Four Crows:
between winter and spring
The white blanket’s thrown off.
Meadow grass is flattened and combed like hair,
sore with winter, and wise with sleep.
A phoebe imitates a man imitating a phoebe.
Goldenrod stubble pokes up like tossed hangers.
A dry ball of hydrangea tumbles to the barn.
Why didn’t Doe eat it, in such a winter as this?
O her hoof prints are gone now, though I invite
them with my longing eyes
around tree roots that look like arms and legs
lounging in new green bed covers of moss, and the litter
of Russian olive leaves like a thousand just-opened eyes.
Umber pine needles are arrows, and four crows,
suddenly rising up at my approach, point in her direction,
which is everywhere, and nowhere.
My entry for One Shot Wednesday. Follow the link and discover new work by wonderful poets.
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67 comments:
sore with winter, and wise with sleep.
suddenly rising up at my approach, point in her direction,
which is everywhere, and nowhere.
wonderful!
I can smell the moss and the damp pine needles - wonderful
rich in imagery and language. rich! you made me laugh with A phoebe imitates a man imitating a phoebe. who knows where anything begins?
if a poem could smell, this one smells of that transition between winter and spring. i've read it a few times already moving my gaze over what the freshly revealed earth offers.
xo
erin
Your vivid images and lyrical voice make this a great pleasure to read. All the senses are at work. Lovely!
This is enchanting. I too long for spring, that you for sharing this imagery!
Sounds like spring is arriving! Hurray! Everything is everywhere and nowhere. :-)
Just the sort of visuals I needed to stir me from an otherwise dreary morning...spring in the images, enchanting spring, stretching its roots beneath the sun. Vivid piece that makes the senses sing. Beautiful.
Love love love this. You have such a talent for describing your world - and in a way where I can see what you mean. I'm not really into obscure poetry, but with you that's not a problem - I can totally see the leaves like just-opened eyes.
you put us right there with your marvelous descriptions...great write...
Again, I'm drawn into the scene - by both your words and the photos. I especially like the "everywhere and nowhere" phrase.
Where I live (in Florida) spring is a horn-blast of everything green headed to hot in no time flat -- I love the descriptions of place which make me experience spring in new ways -- I read Terresa's poem about the desert and now this. Late-winter early-spring is such a raw time in this poem, with each detail like coming into view as if someone has just arisen from a nap. Looking with "a thousand just-opened eyes." Thank you. - Brendan
positively love the last stanza.
great response to the pictures.
Unbelievably beautiful.
a beautiful cadence to this celebration, Ruth. xxxj
I particularly liked the questioning and longing of the poet which colors the landscape--longing leads to sprawled limbs in a moss bed and questioning brings the answer from the crows who point in flight. Everywhere and nowhere, indeed.
Maybe too much snow for the Doe to reach it this winter ... and now she's gone without leaving any traces? Here the snow didn't last ... but the spring is really welcome anyhow!
Since Spring's started, we've been covered with some more white blankets... guess Winter still wants to linger on. But looking at your photos... the tender new growth, is enough to last me till Spring actually arrives. Thanks for the words and the visuals, as always.
I love the rythym and timbre of this poem. It washes over me like a spring breeze, washing away winter's debris.
And if only that breeze would come here and wash away the snow!
thanks for this poem Ruth and the images -- wow!
marvelous.
words, photos,
your weaving of everything just so .
"the litter
of Russian olive leaves like a thousand just-opened eyes."
-- Beautiful words here, Ruth! One Shot Wednesday is all the richer with you participating!
Yes, I like this a lot, and the faithfulness to the personification throughout. Well done!
Andressa, I appreciate your kind comment.
Thanks, Gwei Mui. Keep those digital images coming. :)
erin, it was so funny when I heard that phoebe, and I could swear a man was in the woods whistling.
I'm glad you can smell the poem. Thank you for your sensual attention.
Maureen, thanks so much for your thoughtful comment.
Thanks and welcome, honehaiku. Spring will come.
Thanks, Neighbor. Apparently spring might be nowhere today as we're expecting snow. :)
Chris G., thank you very much for your kind words. I hope you have a bright day.
Dana, I'm not into obscure poetry either, and I thank you for saying this is accessible. I'm glad you can see the images.
Brian, thank you, and thanks for all you do to support writers.
Barb, thank you for that. Enjoy your beautiful Colorado.
Brendan, yes, "raw" is just what it is here now. It's not terribly attractive before color starts to spring up. But looking closely, I was arrested by the color of the tree roots, and especially the green mosses. I also enjoy hearing about other landscapes (but there are none :), though I confess I would be daunted by the heat of FL and NV.
Evelyn, thanks, I appreciate your kind words.
Wow, Robby, thank you.
jen revved, love that word "cadence." Thank you.
Miss Jane, questioning and longing, c'est moi. :) Thank you for that attention and thoughtful response.
Peter, the deer came right up to the house where the bird seed is scattered. It was a harsh winter for them.
I love to see your flowers through your lens. Your blog seems safe now, thank god. What a chilling experience to lose it in toto.
Arti, we are expecting snow today too, possibly. We always know a few signs of spring early will be followed by a few more snow storms, don't we?
Louise, thank you for "rhythm and timbre" such lyrical words themselves. Now that our snow is gone, there is a lot of debris. We need a couple of warm Saturdays to clean it up! Thanks for your kind and thoughtful comment.
deb, thank you my friend.
Terresa, thank you for that, and for all you do for poetry and inspiring the rest of us.
Robert, thanks a bunch, and I bet you'd help me see even more on a walk.
"Grass is flattened and combed like hair,
sore with winter, and wise with sleep. "
Very nice...echoes inside us, funny how rid of snow your country looks like Travancinha...do you also have granite rock ?
I love the grass metaphor...I always think of the snow mold as matted hair, so we weren't far apart in our thinking.
Lovely, Lady.
Obrigada, João. Yes, there is granite in Michigan, though not here on the farm. This land is pretty sandy.
Susie, never far apart in our thinking, my friend. Thank you.
Words are your friends – you play with them, arrange them and they come out making beautiful music for you and us.
..Russian olive leaves like a thousand just-opened eyes...wow - love this ruth
As always, your poems are beautiful and moving. I can "see" Doe. Beautifully illustrated, too -- our flat grass will perk up soon. It must.
Thoroughly enjoyable images and complementary poems.
Dear Ruth
I enjoyed it all so well, you have a way with words and you paint a beautiful picture...
ॐ नमः शिवाय
Om Namah Shivaya
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/03/whispers-seed-and-senseless-living.html
At Twitter @VerseEveryDay
You're responsible for a few moments of quiet enjoyment over here, Ruth.
The images tumble over and over just like the dried ball of hydrangea. The Doe! Grass as matted hair,"sore with winter and wise with sleep."
Follow the crows, Ruth...
An unusual rhythm to these tercets, striking and lovely!
Merci, Vagabonde, for such kind words.
Oh thanks so much, Claudia. I love our Russian olive trees, though they are taking over.
Thanks, Jeanie. This is the grass in the meadow (I added "meadow" to be more clear). It is very long, 2-3 feet, and it really does look like long blonde hair.
Thanks, Paul, for your kind visit.
Thank you, Shashi. I enjoyed your haiku and poem very much, a fine contribution to One Stop Wednesday.
That's good, Deborah. I'm happy to see you. Your letter from Japan is so heartening.
ds, thank you, my friend. And I am.
Thanks, Loring!
you must write the majority of the lyrics Ruth, you write that well. The images look like they could be of Tugman Park here in Oregon.
That piece of wood looks like it lays across a mountain bike trail, with many scrapes from the front sprocket.
love the transitions. love the photographs
You don't just take a walk... you feel poetry as you go along. I loved ... "around tree roots that look like arms and legs, lounging in new green bed covers of moss"
So creative - in a way I long to be. This week was SO busy for me. I was unable to do much writing, missed my poetry challenges. But I just couldn't take the time away from the family (...I WANTED to, though!) So nice to visit here. :)
The poems are simply flowing out of you these days, Sister. Your life is becoming one big poem!
Another beautiful moment in the meadow from your pen. The "sore with winter, wise with sleep" drew me right in, such a knowing way of describing this inter-season interlude, just before the awakening of spring. I like the way your longing eyes lead to the thousand newly opened eyes of the olive leaves and then the ending is just perfect — I can hear the rustle of the crows' wings as they take flight, and then the silence that regains command of the air, as the poet and reader are left alone together, searching for something that is everywhere, and nowhere.
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