Our Host
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. Margaret has been an elementary school teacher for 36 years, most recently teaching gifted students in Iberia Parish. Her first book of children’s poetry was published in 2018 by UL Press, Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape. Margaret’s poems have appeared in anthologies including The Poetry of US by National Geographic and Rhyme & Rhythm: Poems for Student Athletes. Margaret writes a blog regularly at http://reflectionsontheteche.com.
Inspiration
Billy Collins welcomes a spring day with amazing enthusiasm and joy. I’ve always admired this poem “Today” with its unbridled celebration of spring.
“If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house”
I hope that today is that kind of day for you.
Process
Borrow a line for a golden shovel or just begin with “If ever there were a spring day so perfect” and continue.
Margaret’s Poem
Burst into Spring
**After Billy Collins, Today
If ever there was a spring day so perfect,
so stirred up by a cool crisp wind
that you wanted to breathe more often
to taste the wisteria blossoms,
and throw open all the doors,
lift them clear off the hinges,
a day so bright the pink azaleas
pop open like a birthday balloon bouquet,
a day so delightful that you felt like
running naked among them,
released from all inhibitions taking flight
outstretched arms playing airplane,
so you could fly on steady wings
balanced for lift and drinking nectar,
yes, you can imagine it,
today is just that kind of day.
© Margaret Simon
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Plant Lady
If ever there were a spring day so perfect…
The sound of rain hitting all types of pedals
I set my indoor plants on the balcony
To experience the thrills of being an outdoor plant
We looked at one another and smiled
At the spring day so perfect
Rachel, I loved the way you personified your indoor plants — sweet!
“Soon”
Soon, track season will be over;
Soon, the school year will end.
Soon, summer break will be here,
Soon, time for relaxing.
Wait —
Soon, summer running camp;
Soon, Driver’s Ed.
Soon, planning for next year;
Soon, a different busy.
Margaret—thank you for today’s prompt. I’m going to revisit this when I have more time.
The poem I shared above is from today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo.net
I wanted to get something shared here today.
Margaret,
What wonderful imagery in your poem. I could see, smell and “taste the wisteria.” It reminded me of spring in my grandmother’s backyard. Thanks for sharing the Collins poem. It reminded me of a Bukowski poem on spring: “Farewell Frost, or Welcome Spring”
From Bukowski’s “Farewell Frost, or Welcome Spring”
“ – What gentle winds perspire! as if here
Never had been the northern plunderer
To strip the trees and fields, to their distress,
Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.”
There is tension in the air.
The wind races around the yard for a few minutes,
The flops on the couch for an afternoon nap.
As soon as you turn your back,
Green tendrils wheedle their way into your life.
You beat them back with adze swings and bag up their remains.
The pink cherry blossoms are proud to flaunt their rebirth.
New purple leaves restore dignity to the once naked branches.
An approving hummingbird flits among the branches.
Then the sun rests behind the hills,
While the brisk breeze sneaks through the valley,
Preparing for another round.
I love your playful personification of the breeze! Also the lines about the cherry blossoms “flaunting their rebirth,” and the purple leaves “restor[ing] dignity.” That’s my yard exactly. How great is Spring!!
Shaun,
The personification in this is great–the brisk breeze sneaking and the proud pink cherry blossoms. The verbs are very alive in your poem!
Love the kinesthetic feel of this, and love that it was inspired by Bukowski!
I was reading through Collins’ poem trying to pick a line to borrow when my daughter “walk[ed] out…squinting.” So here we go 🙂
Bedtime
she walked out squinting
from the dark of her bedroom
into my lamplight
making another excuse
so she could be near me
Your poem is super cute! I remember when I was younger and similar things to my own parents, so your poem really brings up happy memories. I hope you enjoyed that moment!
Aw. This one makes the heart smile.
Thank you for bringing back this pleasant but forgotten memory.
If there was ever a spring day so perfect
I can see it now,
The sound of laughter filling my soul in every way
If there was ever a spring day so perfect.
In a day so perfect I would find peace, and tranquility
There would be no sorrows, or strain
If there was ever a spring day so perfect.
I can see it now, the future.
Of a spring day.
So perfect.
“The sound of laughter filling my soul in every way.” That is perfection. As is the promise of it coming in the future. The repetition in your poem brings such a nice cohesiveness. Beautiful!
I like the positivity here – getting excited about the upcoming, perfect, spring days. Something to look forward to as we dive into spring.
A red-winged blackbird flitting
Just outside my window, then glancing around
Now resting on a flimsy green tree branch
How’d he know he wouldn’t fall to the ground?
His sitting there this dusky spring morning
Reminded me of Emily’s poem.
“Hope is a thing with feathers”
Maybe she wrote that one spring day
Seeing a bird and hoping for warmer weather.
Anna, what a neat nudge to Dickinson’s poem! I like your description of the “red-winged blackbird flitting.” Hope a warmer weather comes to you soon too!
Anna,
That photo is gorgeous, and your poem honors Emily Dickinson. I love “hope is the thing with feathers” and can imagine her looking out the window and painting gorgeous word pictures as you have in your poem, Simply lovely.
Beautiful! I like asking the question of how he’d known he’s be okay when he landed.
I enjoy prompts like this because they are simple, but still enjoyable! I had fun writing this one, thinking about what the perfect day would be for me to experience in Spring.
If ever there were a Spring day so perfect,
That I could play video games with my bother online,
Where I wouldn’t have to worry about either of us leaving,
Due to work, school, or whatever,
And we could spend the entire day together,
Doing what we both love.
If ever there were a Spring day so perfect,
That I can read a book outside,
Without worrying about the wind blowing the pages,
While having the sun shine down upon me,
Bringing just the right amount of warmth,
That I can have a cold popsicle without it melting.
These are the perfect days that I have had,
And wish to experience again.
Andrew,
Your depictions of perfection really showcase the desire to savor these moments. The lines “Bringing just the right amount of warmth,/ That I can have a cold popsicle without it melting.” made me smile. There’s such a delicate balance between rest and enjoyment and responsibility in this poem. So refreshing for the close of a Sunday.
Doing what we love with the people we love. That’s what makes life beautiful!! I love the popsicle line, too. I had a moment reading (and then eating a popsicle) in my backyard hammock earlier this week that was PERFECTION. Wishing you more peaceful moments like the ones you’ve described!!
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
The Sun would shine with a wispy breeze
We’d saunter down the streets of a place neither of us has been before
Stumble across a winery with sprawling fields
Where we could sit for awhile
Sipping sweetness while talking about nothing and everything
Laughing about the past
And dreaming of tomorrow
But mostly relishing each other’s company
As the world passes us by
If only we could go back in time
Heidi, everything sounded so perfect in your poem until I got to the last line. Now I have so many questions.
Heidi,
The sense of longing in your poem jumps out at the end. Your imagery paints such a lovely lazy sunny spring day where it seems like it is just full of possibility and joy, so the ending hit even harder.
Heidi, the images you paint in the poem are perfect for my idea of a perfect day. My favorite lines are
Sipping sweetness while talking about nothing and everything
Laughing about the past
I don’t know why leaving our homes seems to inspire this kind of interaction with family and friends. Thanks for the reminder!
Book Club Tanka
By Mo Daley 4/14/24
Today is perfect
for relishing poetry
talking metaphors
possible meanings, lovely
imagining empathy
Mo, your tanks is so perfectly stated. Really like “lovely imagining empathy”
Tanka not tanks…sorry
Mo,
Yes! Perfect day for talking poetry, and I loved seeing your +1. What a cutie!
Spot on, Mo! This is a perfect day. It was great to see you today 🙂
Mo, it is a perfect day for that. Thank you. I love the word “relishing” here and “lovely / imagining empathy” What a blessing it is to talk about poetry.
You are so right, Mo! Sarah does such a wonderful job attracting and supporting poets who share prompts that inspire us to share. I look forward to the opportunity of reading and responding after writing and am continually how amazed I am that our poets up and down the age ranges and across the country, north and south, so often write about something that makes me tingle at their skill and ability to create windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors that help us access the lives of others.
I love that your idea of perfection is just simply spending time appreciating poetry and spending time with others. I hope you had a blast looking at everyone poems today!
Margaret,
Thank you for hosting and sharing a Billy Collins poem. I love his use of subjunctive mood in the first line and the structure of the poem, a periodic sentence w/ a delayed predicate. This makes writing fun. Im wanting to throw the door open, too! I took a different tonal approach after reading an article in the NYT last night.
Warning
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
for starting a dialogue with teens,
with those who teach teens,
with those who parent teens,
with those who work with teens in any capacity
about a dangerous trend
in teen sexual relationships,
a trend doctors compare to CTE,
a trend that began with streaming networks and Fifty Shades of Grey,
a trend many BDSM experts refuse to practice,
a trend that can cause accidental death,
a rising trend that causes brain fog,
a horrifying trend that can debilitate young women,
well, today is just that kind of perfect day
for talking to young people
about the dangers of
rough sex&choking.
Glenda Funk
4-14-24
“The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex” NYT, April 12, 2024
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/12/opinion/choking-teen-sex-brain-damage.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare
Glenda, your poem shares such an alarming situation. I appreciate how your poem defines the reason this tend must be discussed. Can you imagine having brain fog at such a young age? I like how your poem calls out to all the people connected to teens to be aware of this alarming trend. I do blame our media for starting trends like this. Riveting poem and Canva production!
Any day is that kind of a day to talk to teens, their parents, teachers, guardians about safe sex. Besides, it should be about love, and love is gentle and caring. I didn’t know it was a new trend in teenage sex. Thank you for sharing the link. The Canva image background helps create a proper tone for your poem.
Wow! What a story. I really like how your poem is calling all of us to action. You are right that now is the time to have these important conversations with our teens.
Uuuuugggghhhh, what next for our poor youth! I was just talking to a friend about how hard it must be to parent teens these days. I know our parents may have said the same thing, but good grief, today’s teens are exposed to so many awful practices and unfortunately it seems to be getting worse.
Thank you for educating me on this. I thought spanking was a bad idea in sex but now they’re choking people. I can’t.
Hugs, my friend. Your poem and graphic hit the nail on the head.
OMG, I just have to say knowing this is making me feel mournful. It is good for adults to talk about it. That is one flashing warning sign about making pornography ubiquitous and available to anyone, any age, with a phone. Thank you for calling attention to it.
Glenda,
You open the door to such a grisly subject with such a nurturing tone that it really does stir the conversation in a way that is inviting in rather than calling out someone. I think poetry could be an amazing way to springboard conversations like this one!
Glenda— oof. Tough topic, necessary and so frightening.
Slumped on the couch as if
calorie-doped might ever
be aproblem we sat there
Ages ago, you and your sisters were
bickering and teasing and gallomping a-
round on a robin’s egg blue spring
morning, searching for berries, day-
dreaming and unaware life could be so
perfect.
I really like the fast forward movement of your poem. As I read it, I felt a sense of loss. The realization that some moments in our lives were too wonderful for us to have ever realized their perfection until much later.
Calorie dipped is exactly how I’m feeling right now! I love the beautiful snapshot of a long ago time.
WOW! WOWilkinson! You’ve used active verbs so well that your poem reads like a movie picture: slumped, bickering, and galloping around. (I love that last word. It’s new to me, but then poets have the liberty of creating their own words, a la Shaespeare. And this word seems to fit the scene you’re painting for us, Plutarch style. You may recall how he says that poets paint pictures with their poems. You’ve painted a moving picture.
Thanks.
Shakespeare 🙂
Margaret,
Thank you so much for this perfect prompt on this perfect and beautiful spring day! Loved all your images of spring: “taste the wisteria blossoms,” and “bright the pink azaleas” and balanced for lift and drinking nectar”
Azure Sky
If there ever was a spring day so perfect,
So tranquil the drifting azure sky
That I carve up some moments to uncover stories in the cloud painted ether
and in the morning quietude,
Open my heart and mind, listen to Earth’s pulse, the sighs of the planet
Hope the world enjoys a moment of peace and joy today.
Tammi, your poem is gorgeous. I love all the soft sounds and images, the Earth’s pulse, the planet’s sigh and the azure sky. Wow! We so need peace and solitude!
Tammi, what a gorgeous day you’ve created with your poem! Each line is more beautiful than the last. I love the idea of uncovering the clouds’ stories
Tammi, I am going to hold onto “the morning quietude.” Thank you for these words today!
Margaret–what a great prompt. I’ve seen you write many a golden shovel, but I have never tried one of my own until today. I know you suggested Billy Collins, but I couldn’t get Ada Limon’s new anthology: You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World out of my head. So I picked a line from the poem Twenty Minutes in the Backyard by Alberto Rios for my first Golden Shovel.
Nature’s Medicine
Backyarding with the crows and bees while
framing photos in my mind’s eye seeking the
sunlight’s warmth, trying to remain whole
as time stretches and contracts, I’m spinning in space atop the world
in this outdoor space, I stop the spinning to smell lavender blossoms, feel the ridged aloe simply
spreading, spreading, filling space along the path as it moves
greening and growing wholing my mind, calming frantic synapses, inching me forward
You can find links to the poem on my blog, along with a few other poems from the anthology. https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2024/04/14/natures-medicine-npm24-day-14/
Thanks for sharing. I really stopped to savor the alliteration of “stop the spinning to smell…”
Kim,
Nature really is the best medicine. I was outside most of the day today and feel so rejuvenated. Nature really does have a way of “calming frantic synapses”.
Hi, Margaret! I love the prompt. The spring brings me back to life each time I feel like I am falling into abyss of emotional exhaustion. Your poem feels like such a splendid “burst into spring”! I borrowed a stanza from W. Wordsworth’s “Lines Written for Early Spring.”
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
On Friday, I spontaneously signed up for 5K Strawberry Strut Run. I walk quite a bit, but I am not a runner, so it was a challenge, but it feels so good to do something new. So, yes, I brag and, to borrow from you and B. Collins, “today is just that kind of day.”
Sunday Morning at the 5K Run
The morning glides into my world with
Birds twitting joyfully by the feeder
Around the oak tree with heavy, gnarly branches touching ground.
Me, heading to 5K Strawberry Strut, wishing I
Hopped through the distance as a fledgling
And savor the scenery along the way, while I
Played this idea in my mind, the starter’s “On your marks,”
Their voice, crisp and commanding, disrupts my
Thoughts into one single desire:
I am not chasing the prize; just aiming for the finish line, and I
Cannot mask my excitement, fear, and restless spirit, yet
Measure the distance mentally (how much longer can I endure?),
But my friend runs beside me (I suspect she is swifter)
The least I can do is press on and persist.
“Motion keeps you alive,” I tell myself a newfound mantra,
Which holds true for fleeting moments.
They charted the route wisely through the shady alleys,
Made it easier to evade bright sun
It allowed me to enjoy the view along these long 5K that
Seemed like 10, yet I grew such
A thrill from venturing something new—a fresh kind
Of unprompted self-care blossoming into a
Pleasure of each move as a step to my own little victory.
Leilya — Congratulations on your 5K run! Sounds like you had a beautiful day for your run. Love these lines:
“Motion keeps you alive,” I tell myself a newfound mantra,
Which holds true for fleeting moments.”
Leilya,
Congratulations on completing the race, but be careful. Running a 10k in 2007 is how I hurt my back. I love the Whitman line. My favorite line in your poem is “I am not chasing the prize; just aiming for the finish line,” That’s always my goal. I know I won’t win!
Leilya, I love your joyful voice! You have much to be proud of, too. I appreciate the mantra motion keeps you alive! Fantastic job of using the golden shovel to reveal your 5k experience!
WoW! You have brought back memories about when I used to do this. So wonderful and I re-lived it again. Thanks. Yes, A thrill of pleasure.
Great poem and golden shovel.
Leilya, what fun! You have created a wonderful recap here of your first 5K! Nice Golden Shovel with those four lines. (You make it look seamless, not forced at all with any of the words at the front of each line. Well done!) I guess I would also be proud if I finished a race called the “Strawberry Strut.”
These lines had me chuckling:
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so awakened by a single stream of light
that it made you want to push
closed your bedroom window cracked for a breeze
and not the mating calls of woodpeckers,
or baby hawks stuck in tree tops,
a day–the only day–when you silenced the alarm
and the coffee waits until after dawn to percolate
and slumber seemed so promising
that you almost felt elusive rest but instead
reached for a BB gun to take out the feeder
making known to all the tweeters and singers
in this bedside cedar of newly-leafed branches,
well, that dreams cannot compare to this spring scene and
today is a whistle-along-with-the-birds kind of day.
Sarah, hahaha! I know of those days. The perfect day for sleeping in,
and yet, they wouldn’t hear of it. I’m so glad “you had a change of heart” about shooting the bird feeder, and that last line is perfect! I love all the “ands” and “buts” in your story poem.
(We used to go camping on the Mogollon Rim in Arizona. The crows would wake us up at the crack of dawn, and using a BB gun would have gone through my mind if I would have had one.)
Oh, Sarah! Here I was writing how I enjoyed waking up to the birds’ tweeting 🙂
I read this line beginning: “reached for a BB gun,” and thought: “Oh, no!” and then laughed at “to take out the feeder / making known to all the tweeters and singers.”
The final line is my favorite: “today is a whistle-along-with-the-birds kind of day.”
Sarah — I love how your story unfolds unexpectedly in your poem. “a day–the only day–when you silenced the alarm/and the coffee waits until after dawn to percolate” to “reached for a BB gun to take out the feeder”. I laughed out loud to that because I know that feeling of frustration at being woken “tweeters and singers”. Loved the ending.
Sarah, I am totally entertained by your poem! I can feel your need to sleep and how you might want to take out the birds disturbing your peace. Your last line is a hoot! Truly priceless poem!
Sarah, I have always wished to be in a “sleep in” kind of mood, but if my eyes open, my body starts to ache if I’m not up within 20 minutes. I wonder if when I’m retired I will sleep in or at least act like 7:30 a.m. is sleeping in.
I laughed at the BB gun! 🤣
Margaret, thanks for hosting today. I love the feeling of liberation in your poem.
A Miraculous Spring Day
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
toxic
waste would be swallowed whole
by invaders from outer space
violence
rape, greed, hate would dissipate
like morning’s soft dew
missing
children would reappear
free from trauma and fear
kindness
would bloom like the redbuds’ lilac hue
offering sweet forgiveness
together
beneath the starry skies
we’d reunite to stay the light
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
Barb Edler
14 April 2024
Oh, Barb, what a clever and heart-breakingly powerful way to interpret this line from Billy Collins. Yes, to all of these. I was surprised when I read the second line “toxic” after that opening line. Very effective. It quickly got us into the poem, and I realized all the additional stanzas you could have written. That last one though, “together…to stay the light” is masterful. And also the one before where kindness is “offering sweet forgiveness” “like the redbuds’ lilac hue” Wow! Okay, I need to stop, or I’ll rewrite the whole thing here. Such a beauty.
Thanks, Denise. I really struggled with this poem because I kept adding and then deleting all the things I’d like to see change. LOL!
I think your single word lines form a powerful message “toxic violence missing kindness together” – it is absolutely frightening, sobering, horrifying how much is wrong with our world, how much would have to change to have that blessed perfect spring day. I hurt so much for children, living everywhere, with trauma and fear. Wow, this is a gut-punch poem, Barb! Well done, well done. May “we’d reunite to stay the light.”
We can only hope that God is listening to your plea. There is so much violence, hatred, and pollution in our world. If only…
Whoa, what a contrast of images from spring to toxic. That tone shift was very evocative and made me sit up and listen. I do wish that “kindness/would bloom like redbuds’ lilac hue”! That is such a beautiful phrase and wish for a spring day so perfect.
Sarah
Barb, I love, love, love everything about your poem. The words you chose for the beginning of each stanza together make a statement, and I can’t stress enough how much we are “missing kindness” in our society. The ending gives me hope:
“together
beneath the starry skies
we’d reunite to stay the light
If ever there were a spring day so perfect”
Thank you for this message today!
Barb — This — “kindness/would bloom like the redbuds’ lilac hue/offering sweet forgiveness” — Yes! We need more of this in our world.
Barb,
This is a perfect response to the question, “What would a spring day look like?” I bet you considered that question as a path into writing today. It honors what we talked about e/ Ada Limon’s poetry this afternoon. I love everything you name as a way to make every day more perfect. Until these things happen we won’t have that perfect day.
Thank you, Margaret, for sharing the prompt today. Each year, I wonder if this spring is the most beautiful. It is a never-ending battle.
A flash of color here and there, Spring is the generous
Host of constantly changing colors. Now the purples and pastels
Of irises are advancing. Tulips have played a major role in
Golden shades and red and pink and even midnight blue and so have the azaleas too.
Daffodils and hyacinths so brave were the vanguards though, shouting reveille,
Welcoming you to spring.
You can’t close your eyes for a second.
To do so is to miss the barrage of
Spring.
Azaleas in our neighborhood
Of course, the source of my Golden Shovel poem is Wordsworth.
Katrina, stunning. So much truth from the early arrivals, this “Daffodils and hyacinths so brave were the vanguards though, shouting reveille,” Perfection! And I love the idea that “You can’t close your eyes for a second” as you’ll “miss the barrage” (such a great word choice). That’s why I try to take walks in my desert every day, so I don’t miss any new start ups.
Katrina, your photograph of azaleas is stunning. I love the heralding of spring your poem offers and all the welcoming colors. I like the idea that daffodils and hyacinths are brave.
This fabulous line, “You can’t close your eyes for a second” speaks to the swiftness of Spring, how quickly flowers bloom and go. It is breathtaking.
A friend of mine just said to me that flowers are a miracle every day. You capture that in your poem with all these lovely blooms.
Katrina, I love this Wordsworth’s poem about daffodils. You managed to keep that spirit of spring and change and color and blooms not to miss in your poem.
Katrina,
This is so true —
“You can’t close your eyes for a second.
To do so is to miss the barrage of
Spring.” — it really does seem like spring comes and goes so quickly. We need to enjoy it while it is here.
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
As when the laundry danced in a cool wind
Tugging on a line to join in a seasonal salsa
Clothespins held on dearly to their mates
Nearby suds dried lazily in a wash bucket
Forgotten as children came clamoring up the drive
Curtains waved welcome home and screen doors
Stood guarding the threshold from mosquitos and flies
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
As when wheat and fresh cream showed labors of love
Berry jams and peach jellies proudly lined up for roll call
Cucumbers bathed in mustard seeds, vinegar, and dill
Salt and ice blocks preserved fresh cuts of meat
Lye and oils joined together drying in stacked bricks
Sewing pins and thread laid near tattered jeans
Buttons, patches, and new fabric awaited
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
Before television zombification’s nightly line-ups
Before grocery deliveries and bulk stores
Before tweets and grids and nagging notifications
Before…
Before
Ana, it’s so good to see you here. Oh, the magic happening in your cool wind in that first stanza. So rich and full. And that second stanza, I feel a past that I’m not fully familiar with, but you have made it come alive. I Iove the repetition of the first line in each stanza, and because of the first two, all the Before… lines seem sadder. Lovely poem.
Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were Ana! Everything else I said in my comment and about your poem is for you! 🙂
What a homage to a time gone by. I especially love
Your poem offers a sweet reprise from our digital world and all its toxicity. I loved the images of dancing laundry and all the wonderful jellies proudly displayed. A simpler life sounds so much more appealing.
I love imagining clotheslines dancing – “seasonal salsa/Clothespins held on dearly to their mates”…your poetry takes us back in time, to a world lived much more outside.
I love this flashback to those laundry-on-the-line days. All the senses you packed into this piece that inspire and reminisce. Thanks for writing today.
Ashley,
I just love that phrase “seasonal salsa”. Your poem feels like another time, indeed a time before the “zombification” and yet also there is hope in the cucumbers bathed and lye and oils joined. Such lovely, hopeful phrases!
Sarah
Oh, yes, I sense nostalgia about good old times of “Before… Before” in your poem. Love the imagery in your first stanza especially. It reminds me of my life in the countryside:
“when the laundry danced in a cool wind
Tugging on a line to join in a seasonal salsa
Clothespins held on dearly to their mates”
beautifully crafted! Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for sharing. I want to snuggle up in those first two stanzas and rest.
Ashley,
If a perfect time were to all the life you’ve described I think there would be no concern or need to mention all those technology distractions you’ve identified. I particularly love the image of “Berry jams and peach jellies proudly lined up for roll call” and recall those days of hanging laundry.
Peace and Harmony Today ~ A Golden Shovel Inspired by Billy Collin’s poem Today
Do you ever wonder if?
Do you think there will ever
be peach throughout humanity? Will there
exists a time in times to come better than they were
and better they they are? I pray for a
day when love and acceptance spring
up like peonies on a warm, sunny day;
where harmony fills the air and drifts so –
as a warm intermittent breeze…perfect.
It hurts my heart to know all the to well
that groups of people hurt groups of people, as it is today,
for selfish reasons and politics. Power is
the root of evil schemes just
as much, if not more than, money, and that
makes me sad and mad. We could be the kind
of people who are releasing the inhabitants of
war and pain so they can walk out into a brighter day.
Donnetta, wow. You took this beautiful spring day on a fiery walk of activism. Beautiful.
and
Hear, hear! There is so much truth, and in your “Power is the root of evil schemes…” line is so true and dangerous.
Donnetta, I love the idea of love and acceptance springing up like peonies. The sense of peace and harmony radiates throughout your poem. I agree with you that Power is the root of evil. It would be a perfect day if we could keep away the hurt others inflict. Gorgeous poem!
Peonies may be my favorite flowers – how they come up from the ground and their tiny buds are nurtured by ants into these fabulous blossoms…this leaves me smitten and hopeful from your lines, “when love and acceptance spring/up like peonies on a warm, sunny day” Without a doubt “We could be the kind/of people” who offer peace, love, hope to all. We don’t need to be living like this. Powerful golden shovel, Donnetta. Thank you!
I wish for such a day as well. When will the answer come?
Donnetta, You speak the truth so beautifully. What is it so difficult to have that “love and acceptance?” Tough to understand but I think power is definitely a part of it. Thanks for sharing this eloquent, meaningful poem.
Your idea to have the last word of each line spell out the the prompt sentence was really clever, and I hope it wasn’t too hard to do it. Your poem itself was very heartrenching, I can only hope that one day we won’t have to worry about such evil and hurt existing and that peace will be omnipresent.
If Ever There were a Spring Day so perfect
it would occur when we have our yearly break
instead of the clock controlling your meals
you can have dinner first and breakfast in the evening
If Ever There were a Spring Day so perfect
lie in bed all day and get served , if possible
put aside all of their names, if you can
go outside and let fresh air smack you in the face
If Ever There were a Spring Day so perfect
go out and notice flowers, grass, and overgrown bushes
pick up a caterpillar, revel in the beauty of a butterfly
Find the inner child you’ve been keeping hidden
Allow her to swing her arms and kiss the pastel blue sky
If Ever There were a Spring Day so perfect
try to snuggle with someone special during daytime hours
the week off means total relaxation and surrender
time to let your bladder be the leader, instead of the bell.
By: Seana Hurd Wright
Oh, Seana, I hear a tired teacher in this poem. Tired of holding your bladder, tired of keeping the inner child hidden (why?), tired of remembering their names and being cooped up in a classroom. Yes, a Spring Day without that would be glorious! However, be advised that when you retire you will get you fill of all those perfect Spring Days and begin to miss working. Imagine!
Seana,
Yes, here’s to an educator’s perfect spring days happening during a school break. You have captured the freedom that comes with a break from the eat-and-pee-only-when-the-bell-rings schedule of a teacher. Love these lines:
and
Seana, I adore the actions within your poem, especially the ones focused on enjoying the beauty of nature. I particularly liked “Find the inner child” line. Of course, our bladders do need to be treated better and our lives would be healthier without bell systems!
I hear your exhaustion of the end of a teaching year; I hope you have many days very soon where you can “try to snuggle with someone special during daytime hours” – isn’t that a dreamy thought?
Summer is coming quickly. Bells will be silenced for a time, so I hope you swing your wide arms and kiss the pastel blue sky!
Thank you, Margaret, for this prompt. Your poem is beautiful; “so you could fly on steady wings” is just what the perfect spring day would feel like.
Here goes mine:
If ever there was a spring day so perfect,
That stops you from wishing for the solitude of winter,
That brings with it the delicate zephyr of peace,
And a hint of cherry blossoms,
That brings with it lazy evening tea
Surrounded by the all the people that love you,
That lifts the weight of the world from your chest,
That makes you hope again for a tomorrow, and a tomorrow after that,
And a tomorrow after that…
That feels like cuddling a kitten, purring against your chest.
If ever there was a spring day so perfect,
I hope today is that day for you – and me.
So many precious lines…I am basking in your poem. I love especially, “That brings with it the delicate zephyr of peace,”
Oh, Saba, this poem brings a sigh of peace and hope for a future like that. “delicate zephyr of peace”, “surrounded by the people that love you” “lifts the weight of the world from your chest” Yes! This is beautiful.
Saba, wow, your poem does illustrate a perfect spring day. I love the idea of a day feeling like cuddling a kitten. You have so many rich images throughout this that are incredibly inviting. “delicate zephyr of peace” is one of my favorites. Gorgeous poem.
Love the “delicate zephyr of peace” is a wonderful phrase. I also want the lazy tea. What a lovely day you have conjured.
Checkout is Noon
Indiscreet and restless Sun waved me awake, offering
hope for an early morning hike in the Cacapon Woods
that-tat-tat trilled Woodpeckers Pileated and Red-Bellied
today is now and it
is a spring day so perfect
that taskmaster Blue Jay loudly demanded GET UP! while
kind Carolina Wren softly and patiently whispered
of the breeze, of the Redbuds in bloom, of a
day to be up and on my feet in the
forest, savoring the chartreuse leafing of Beech Trees,
young Ferns, Bear Corn – no, not a day to sleep in!
I hope that today is that kind of day for you, too!
Maureen, yes, to not sleeping in on days like this. I love all the properly-nouned, the Sun, each flora and fauna. Maureen, I think a nature/woodland collection of your poems would be a beautiful gift for your family members (and us).
Maureen, your title is perfect. I love your poem’s imagery. I can hear that Blue Jay and see those lovely Redbuds bloom and “savoring the chartreuse leafing of Beech Trees” is a fantastic line. Lovely poem!
Yes to all the specificity and the grateful wish for others at the end. Thanks!
You are lucky to live near such a place. Wish I could walk alongside you, but this poem is the next, best thing. Your use of personification and sensory images, especially of sounds, brought this verse to life. Hope you did enjoy the day.
Hi, Margaret. Today is the day for this perfect prompt. Although we live a distance from each other (I’m in PA), the weather must be similar. When I awoke this morning, I felt like Spring had finally arrived. You offered so many beautiful images in your verse. I could see your “outstretched arms playing airplane” and almost taste the nectar. Vivid verse!
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
such a respite from the rain, the wind,
the dampness that attacks our joints and our spirits,
today is the day.
Today is the day
swaths of sunshine awakened me.
Today is the day
Spring puts on her finery
and announces she’s here to stay.
Today is the day
to don shorts and sandals,
walk in the grass holding hands,
kiss in the breeze.
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
today is the day
to be hopeful,
to be grateful,
to be free.
Love this personification!
“Spring puts on her finery
and announces she’s here to stay.”
(She’s looking pretty fancy here!)
Love the sound of “swaths of sunshine ” – I’m in the D.C. area, just coming from a weekend in West Virginia; we are having this marvelous spring day, too. Truly, “such a respite from the rain, the wind” of the past many days.
Rita, beautiful! I love that this day for you coincided with the prompt. Your repetition of ‘Today is the day…’ is fine. “kiss in the breeze” and those last four lines make me smile a lot!
Rita, your poem is uplifting. I love the image of walking through the grass while holding hands and kissing in the breeze. Yes, to feeling hope, gratefulness and free. Sensational poem!
I love the repetition of “today is the day.” It’s like a command to spring. Hope she will stay around.
Thank you for this prompt! It put a smile on my face as I thought about perfect spring days. I chose to write about early morning as a dual metaphor of daybreak and spring waking up and coming back to life. My dad loved to sit on the porch before the sun came up. He would drink his coffee and smoke his cigarettes and watch and listen to the critters moving about the lake and woods. Now and then I joined him, and we would sit quietly together and feel the world with all our senses.
Awakening
The sweet notes of songbirds carry through the gray mist
that hangs over the cold water of the lake in the crepuscular light.
Damp tendrils of fog brush my forehead.
As a greeting, I whistle back the calls I hear.
One of the swans glides through the mist like an apparition, and
the tap-tap-tap of woodpeckers high up in the trees makes me smile.
A heron, ankle-deep in water, stabs down and captures breakfast.
He flips his prize up in the air and snatches it again and, neck stretched upward,
he swallows the fish in gulps.
A deer comes out of the trees, steps to the edge of the water, and drinks.
White fog swirls around her as her fawn comes out of the mist and joins her.
As I read this, I felt like I was viewing a work of art. I was there with you through the lovely images you created. Beautiful poem.
Rita–what I would give to join you on that porch! So many images I can see and hear.
A deer comes out of the trees, steps to the edge of the water, and drinks.
White fog swirls around her as her fawn comes out of the mist and joins her.”
Beautiful.
I feel as if I am present in this moment. Many beautiful images of animals in the early morning – songbirds, heron and fish, woodpeckers, deer and fawn. I love the word “crepuscular.”
Thank you for taking me to this place–I love the crepuscular light, the painting of the heron in action, the quiet of the fawn, and of course, the fog.
The images of nature here are perfect. Wish I could wake up like this everyday.
Margaret, thank you for the perfect prompt for this perfect spring day. Your poem made me want to outstretch my arms and play airplane in the yard. My wings may be steady, but my back, not so much. Instead, I close my eyes and fly from my desk chair.
I wrote a golden shovel poem using a line from “Today.” Thank you for sharing this delightful poem!
Open your heart to
All the beauty of this perfect spring day.
The sun is warm and welcoming as it streams through the
Windows of the soul – reaching
In to release the chains of winter.
The time is now – get out of the
House; breathe in life.
Hi, Rita. Since were live in close proximity, we are experiencing the same delightful Spring weather. Your poem echoes my sentiments. I feel extra joyful today and intend to take your advice and get outside. I love the line, “release the chains of winter”. That’s exactly how I feel.
Yes, sun can do this, I think – “ streams through the/ Windows of the soul” Such a beautiful sensation!
Rita, I love your “Windows of the soul” and the way the sun reaches in to release us from winter. How beautiful!
get out of the house, breathe in life–a perfect mantra!
Your poem is landing in the present moment, where we should all be to breathe in life. Thanks for writing.
Clever! I love the sentence/directive made of the first word in each line. I can’t wait for our weather to be like this 🙂
If I could
Ever get rid of this migraine
There would be so many ways to enjoy this day!
Were my medicine to work
A sunny Sunday like this could be filled with
Spring celebrations, nature hikes with the dog, gardening! This
Day could be used and enjoyed
So very much. Instead I will whine and complain about a
Perfect day, wasted while the dog whines at the door.
I am sorry you cannot enjoy this perfect day because of a migraine. I have been down that road, and it is no fun. Give yourself grace and whine away! I hope tomorrow is a better day for you and that many more perfect spring days come your way.
Thank you! Yes, today was better… and another beautiful spring day so that was good.
I don’t have migraines, but I’ve lived this feeling every time a bad cold or some illness strikes. You captured that resentment, anger, pity that can take over when we are sick. Hoping that medicine works and you can salvage some of this lovely day.
It’s such a specific kind of feeling — I like your word, pity… when it’s a beautiful day and you are sick! I always start feeling like I will most likely never feel well again. LOL
Ona–I hope tomorrow is a better one for you. I empathize with your regrets and your reasons to whine. But I admire the way you harnessed them into a perfect Golden Shovel!
Thank you!
Oh my. You have, however, written a perfect golden shovel! I hope your migraine dissipates very, very soon. Rest up!
The medicine finally worked! Yay!
And nothing like a golden shovel to take my mind off of it for a bit. 🙂
Ona, I hope your medicine works and that you can “get rid of this migraine.” Would that our bodies would align with the weather (on perfect spring days that is).
thank you! It did finally work, and I did indeed take a walk. 🙂
I’m so sorry about the migraine. Unfortunately with spring comes pollen and allergies and headaches. May you feel better soon.
True! And the bright beautiful sun doesn’t help with the headache! But the medicine started to work, thank goodness.
Margaret, ahhhh, the feeling of spring cleaning and rejoicing overtakes me! Thank you for your poem and for inspiring a Golden Shovel with flight in mind. I don’t recall if we name it a forward and backward Golden Shovel but I went with endings and beginnings.
I used Billy’s lines:
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
Uplifting Humanity
As I out-stretched my weary wings, I wondered if
flying closer to the sun and stars could ever
be a possibility. Or must I hover over ground where there
is longing and suffering, where people were
not in love with humanity, and war is a
global plague. What if I ascend to a mountain spring
and dip my feet in clean, warm water? Where each new day
begins in joy and kindness so
the moment I land again, all is perfect
so perfect that boundless peace will sound on
uplifted shouts of praise and gratitude and
by collective radical love, we will heal and find
a new purpose for living. We will mount up on sun rays to
warm the heart of Mother Earth between
intermittent rain or the chill of winter snow, and bring a
breeze of beloved blessings for all of eternity.
©Stacey L. Joy, April 14, 2024
Stacey, I am awed by the sentiments you so beautifully express in this poem. I believe so many carry the weight of sadness and helplessness as we witness the world around us that seems to be falling apart. I love the line, “breeze of beloved blessings”. It makes me want to offer beloved blessings to others in my own small ways. Thank you for this lovely verse that I will return to again and again.
Stacey–this last stanza is all of our hopes for this broken world…
so perfect that boundless peace will sound on
uplifted shouts of praise and gratitude and
by collective radical love, we will heal and find
a new purpose for living. We will mount up on sun rays to
warm the heart of Mother Earth between
intermittent rain or the chill of winter snow, and bring a
breeze of beloved blessings for all of eternity.
I love your call for boundless peace, coupled with ‘radical love’…your golden shovel is filled with hope. Your lines here, “I ascend to a mountain spring/and dip my feet in clean, warm water” – I really want this experience. That is a summer one in these parts…and it sounds so divine.
So beautiful and full of hope. I love how your stanzas and the shift In the location of the golden shovel both work together.
Stacey, I love your title and the actions you describe throughout your poem. The thought of a collective radical love is especially moving, and I really enjoyed how you opened your poem as though you are a bird flying with possibilities. I think we could all use a few more blessings.
Oh, Stacey, I love the image you extended from Margaret’s poem about flying to all of Humanity! This is beautiful and reads so clearly and easily. Here is my favorite part right now:
“We will mount up on sun rays to / warm the heart of Mother Earth…”
“beloved blessings” is a treasure box full of great meaning
This golden shovel is shining bright! I love “We will mount up on sun rays…” Let’s get going, flying, hovering, and acting like our earth is precious and deserves nothing but Love!
Stacey, you’ve captured this broken world’s need for humanity and peace so well with the line you borrowed. I love how you used the first part of the line to end your lines, and the second part as the beginning words of your lines. Beautifully crafted and adorned in Canva image as always! Thank you!
Stacey,
Your Canva is gorgeous, and I long for this “collective radical love,” so that “we will heal and find / a new purpose for living.” Wouldn’t that be something. I can dream w/ you. And I so appreciate the love and tenderness you bring to this space and to your scholars. The world is much closer to the ideal you describe because you are in it. 🥰
Margaret,
I am filled with appreciation that your prompt today yanked me out of my own head and led me to look out at nature’s beauty. It is is gorgeous day in Oxford, Mississippi, as we visit our son who attends Ole Miss. We left Mass and I definitely was in the head space to write about Spring and renewal.
i pulled a golden line from “Spring” by Gerald Manley Hopkins.
Earth’s Sweet Being in the Beginning
What have we done to deserve this rebirth?
Is the green, lush grass a carpet for our bare feet?
All the blooming flowers and sprouting shoots reveal
this world God gave us to relish in. We
juice the nectar to become the life-giving source
and sugar to satisfy our yearning for all good.
All this beauty is God’s second chance to thrive and leave
this world sour with sinning behind and rejuvenate our world, our lives, with
joy until winter and sin return.
~Susan Ahlbrand
14 April 2024
I love every line!!!! I think you and I were thinking along the same lines today. We are in need of joy and rebirth!!
Susan, your poem is such a great reminder to be thankful that God gives us this rebirth each year. I loved how you began with two questions.
Well said! The line “sour with sin” offers a great example of the world today. Hopefully, together we can “rejuvenate” and return to goodness, love and beauty.
Susan–I think you and Stacy Joy were in collusion here! I love the concept of God’s second chance. I hope we make the best of it…
Gorgeous choice for a golden shovel line, and each line breathes of spring.
We have had an exceptionally wet Spring and now all the grass is luch and green, as well. Such a beautiful world. I love your line that reminds me about God’s second chance in a world that can quickly turn sour.
What a wonderful striking line for a spring poem. I’m glad you felt so inspired by the prompt and the service and the lovely spring day in Oxford. I’m an LSU fan, but we won’t talk about that. This poem is all juice and joy.
Susan, that last line is sobering and so true. It’s soul-shaking, really, getting my attention that living in the NOW and taking the time to enjoy things (not counting days til retirement and staying buried in a heap of papers until then) is what the Good Lord intended. No one cultivates a taste for art or reading or anything else except by immersing and practicing. And I agree that it is the same in nature – – enjoy it regularly and it will be so much more meaningful.
You had me with the first line, Susan! The final lines are profoundly true:
“All this beauty is God’s second chance to thrive and leave
this world sour with sinning behind and rejuvenate our world, our lives, with
joy until winter and sin return.”
Thank you!
If ever there ever there were a Spring day so perfect,
allowing the vibrancy of life to dance
across the grayed-brown hardened world.
A cotton-candy morning light
breaks the horizon
ushering in a true blue sky,
Golden stars with fluted cups
butter the lawns,
encircling trees.
Tiny 5 petaled periwinkle blooms
pepper the edges
of pavement,
Flaming fuchsia blossoms
popcorn a human-size bush
casting a pinkish haze into the room just beyond the window
Tufts of white cotton
scatter across the
stretching arms of trees awakening once more.
Nature’s colors preach
“Look- life returns, regrows, reshapes after times of dreariness. Keep hoping.”
Well, today is that kind of day.
What a delicious poem! Nature is a healer and today it’s raining in L.A. so I am missing the spring walks to take in the beautiful colors of spring. Your poem made me happy. I smiled at “Nature’s colors preach.” Perfect!
This is precisely what is so joyful and bounteous in spring. Love this!
I love the message from nature, ““Look- life returns, regrows, reshapes after times of dreariness. Keep hoping.” Yes, I think I will thanks to spring flowers.
Morning, Margaret! Loved your simple prompt for today — the perfect breather to let some Spring are in to VerseLove!
I used a form today called the “alliterisen” — it demands 7 stanzas of 7 syllables, with an aa, bb, cc, d rhyme scheme and alliteration in each line. Hoping that Spring puts in an appearance sooner rather than later– it was snowing yesterday!
Open windows in her house
Onto stoop’s step, cat drops mouse
Crocus blooms at dip of drive
Apple tree buds burst alive
Snow gives grudging way to rain
Phoebe sings her song again:
Teasing, temperamental Spring.
OH, Wendy, I love this sweet poem and the form that you chose. You are often introducing us to new forms (which I trust is 7 lines of 7 syllables, right?) Thank you for that! Wow, you did this masterfully. The alliteration and rhyme invite this poem to be read aloud. Love “Teasing, temperamental Spring.” Now I’m going to go try it!
Haha — yes! 7 lines, oops! XD
I’ll definitely have to try this new form too! Thanks, Wendy. “Cat drops mouse” I can’t see it!
Oh I so feel your last line- “Teasing, temperamental Spring”. It has been raining for 3 days straight with some snow scattered in but sun today- oh the sun! Thanks for sharing a new form of poetry that I can experiment with.
Wendy–this is beautiful! I must try this form, although I don’t think I could match your skill at rhyming so gracefully (and that alliteration!). Kudos, my friend.
This is a new form to me, and I love it! This line makes me smile so, “Onto stoop’s step, cat drops mouse” – that feline behavior, too, is a bit teasing, temperamental, as you describe Spring so beautifully.
This form works so well with your content.
Whoa! I have come to think of you as Wendy, Wizard-Woman of Complex Forms! I can see every image as if I were watching a video. The rhyming is fantastic. Again – you must be magic – I hope it rubs off a bit because I must try this thing. The name “alliterisen” is spellbinding in itself.
<3
The rhyme adds such a sweetness and bounce to the poem. “Teasing, temperamental spring.”
Wendy, there’s a spring pep in this form, perfect for our topic. In comes spring! I felt as if I were opening the door to the day right alongside you and checking out all the activity in the yard. I’m going to give this form a shot later too.
Thanks for the prompt Margaret. Living in the southern hemisphere these days has got me a bit mixed up but sometimes spring and autumn (weather wise) are similar to me.
If one day you find yourself in the southern hemisphere while
everyone in the northern is celebrating spring,
there, where the seasons are flipped you will be celebrating the end of summer as if it
were a different world, there
anywhere below the equator, you will describe
autumn now, similar to spring because of its beautiful breeze sans sweat, some
day like today where you can just walk,
so soothing after months of humid heat.
Perfectly average.
Angie, wonderful! I bet that disconnect does happen. I like to be reminded of it, having always in the northern majority. But it’s fun to look through your eyes, with the one word change in your striking line.
Amen to this: “so soothing after months of humid heat.”
I guess I thought you were still in Kuwait (thus my comment on my poem to you about today’s book club). Where have I been? And where are you now?
Haha I’m in Mauritius now which is an hour later. But in South Africa right now for break so it would be 11:30pm, I guess? I’ll see if I can make it! 🙂
Thanks for the reminder that we are not all experiencing Spring! You’ve made wonderful connections to fall and I love the alliteration of “its beautiful breeze sans sweat.”
Angie, your poem is delightful and very descriptive. It makes me want to plan a trip to the southern hemisphere.
My favorite line is “so soothing after months of humid heat.” I’m not always a lover of the summer heat so going somewhere soothing sounds inviting. Thanks
Where are you? I once visited Chile in December and we went to the beach and hung out by a pool. It was wonderfully disconcerting for Christmas.
I should have read the other comments. I also was privileged to be in Tanzania in July. I know what you mean about “perfectly average”.
“perfectly average”–that describes a wonderful day! (Whatever your hemisphere)
Very cool how you flipped the prompt to speak to your present situation. I love the last 4 lines that present Spring and Autumn as mirror images.
Margaret, I sit here this morning on ever so perfect a spring day. I’m flying today over your sweet poem, “balanced for lift and drinking nectar”. Thank you for this prompt because it has reminded me to stop and enjoy this day more than I would have normally. This week we are taking lots of walks to witness the blossoming Nolinas in our area. They will die after this display, and today it makes me realize their strength. I used your first two lines of your today poem (“If you want to know hope as the deepest thing”) for my striking line, adding my answer, Yes, “I want that” (something I do want and that I read in Ada Limon’s “Instrumentation” today). The word witness also plays a prominent part thanks to our friend Sarah Donovan. Congratulations on your (our) Oklahoma Literacy Award, Sarah.
——————————————————————-
If you want to be a witness to flourishing,
You are in the right arroyo. Never in
Want of gawkers, these creatures, down
To their temporal roots in the rock,
Know this once-in-a-lifetime bloom of
Hope is for themselves, and yet
As they share with the animals, the sky,
The sand, and us, we breathe in their life. The
Deepest desire in this moment is to know this
Thing before me. To say thank you. To attend.
Yes, to witness this contribution to creation.
I too have temporal roots, and I
Want this life of hope to be always about
That—thanking, attending, witnessing.
This is beautiful Denise. You attended the Hurting Kind book club? I wanted to, but the times didn’t work out really. I loved the book of poems though. And your golden shovel, so hopeful – the pictures are lovely.
Thank you, Angie, I will attend this afternoon. Sadly, it looks like it will be Monday at 1:30 a.m. for you. I know sleep is more important at that time!
Leilya,
This is a beauty and so are your photos. It soothed me to know there is a magic in our sharing of earth, life, air, and poetry.
🌸
Absolutely gorgeous, Denise. I am imagining this “once-in-a-lifetime bloom”, and feel so thankful that you are holding it close, savoring – witnessing…and sharing it with us.
Denise, hear, hear. Loved this:
“Deepest desire in this moment is to know this
Thing before me. To say thank you. To attend.”
Just finished Into the Wild with my AP Lang kids, and this so resonates with ITW vibes!
Denise, I love your reminder that we should be “thanking, attending, witnessing” the beauty that is present right now and for the reminder of how temporal it is and we are.
Denise, I love how you structured your golden shovel poem to move to your last line: thanking, attending, witnessing. All of these actions are so important, and I know you are striving so hard to make a difference in this world. You are a beautiful and powerful voice for change and righteousness. Powerful poem!
“I, too, have temporal roots.” I love what you have done with a line I wrote. I feel honored to be chosen and for being a small part of this amazing poem. I’m learning so much about the desert from your writing. Thank you, Nolinas!
Denise, your photos always add so much to your poems, like a little window to the other side of the country. I like the witnessing also, the being present as a thing is happening and I too draw back on the poem The First Lesson – – about learning to watch closely and to not be afraid. This is lovely what you have shared.
Denise, You have truly allowed me to know this thing before you. We do not have nolinas (though they look like something called a yucca) but I am grateful to have witnessed their blossoming alongside you. I love the thought of attending. It speaks of events, of participating, of bearing witness and what is more beautiful than a thing living fully/blossoming before passing.
Jennifer, they are definitely the same family as yuccas (and Joshua trees, which are also a kind of yucca) and agaves too. The leaves on these are longer, thinner and more flexible. They grow mostly in Mexico and a bit into CA and AZ. We have two varieties near us. I just learned something new, though, I guess they don’t die after blooming, which I always thought they did.
Denise, I love how you extended Margaret’s line with “Yes, I want that.” Our lives should be about “thanking, attending, witnessing,” as you conclude.
The other lines that touched me are:
“The
Deepest desire in this moment is to know this
Thing before me. To say thank you. To attend.”
Thank you for these much needed words today!
Denise,
Thank you for the photo and for sharing desert beauty. Spring is such a short time in the desert. It teases w/ beauty that is so temporal, a reminder to drink it all in asap! Your poem honors the interconnected themes in Limon’s poetry. I see her influence in your gorgeous word paintings.
There are thirteen
traffic lights
on my way to work
and there are times
when I have
sailed through
Each
And Every
one of them
well, not times
just once
three years ago
on a Tuesday
and it was glorious
I crept toward
the first red
which turned green
then drove to the next
which also turned green
and then the next
and the next
green
green
green
and I remember that
Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” was
playing on the radio
it was a good day
to be alive
and
driving
and I think of that time
often, (usually when
I’m stopped at one
of those lights)
and I realize that
I wouldn’t want to
plan such a trip,
wouldn’t want this
to be part of my
“Perfect Summer Day,”
wouldn’t want to
give myself the gift
of thirteen green lights
in a row
because
what of the other cars
at those intersections?
What if they’re having
their own “Perfect
Summer Day”
which would then
make me
a part of it,
too, by waiting
my turn at the
light
so, I wait
and await
my turn
and find
myself
happy
that, of course,
is hogwash,
but it makes me
feel slightly better
while I wait and
console myself
since I am,
already, undoubtedly,
running a tad bit
late
________________________________________________________
Margaret, thank you for your mentor poem and your prompt! Today happened, for me, to be a “stopped by another red light” kinda day instead of an arms wide “on steady wings / balanced for lift and drinking nectar” kinda day, but there’s always tomorrow, right? Hope springs eternal and all that!
I love that your perfect day of green lights causes you to reflect on others who might be having their own and taking your turn at a red to not ruin theirs. And, yes, wouldn’t 13 green lights in a row be “glorious”? So much voice in your poem.
Scott, what a fun poem! I remember a drive like that some years ago as I went to an early morning walking group. It happened one time that all the lights were green. Sometimes all the lights would be red. Arghh! And since the traffic was nonexistent at that hour, stopping at the red lights seemed silly, although I did. (Wouldn’t want to go to a non-Englis- speaking traffic court) And I was often “a tad bit late”
This is pure Scott:
I loved this – the story, the empathy even when running a “tad bit late” and the line breaks!
Thirteen in a row–that is a perfect day!! I most appreciate that one bit of honesty–“that, of course, is hogwash”. I honor your consideration for all those other drivers…
I play that traffic light game too! I say “the lights should be synced with each other and so I go slowly after each green and hope the next one will be green as I approach. For some reason, it rarely works that way.
Love this little slice of perspective. Thanks, Scott.
I love that you wrote a poem about red lights and green lights. They make us stop and think, right? But also make us late and impatient. Don’t get me started on parking spaces… Thanks for writing.
Yesterday got so busy that I never got around to editing my “brain drain” poem. So sorry I missed all of you. Here I am again, writing first thing this morning. Thanks, Margaret for this today.
(after Billy Collins)
It’s when I am cutting weeds that I want to throw
that hoe and freely run around the the yard with open
arms screaming at the gophers, the iris, and “whatchamacallems”- all
that grow in the out-of-control garden and the
yard but (thank God) not near the windows
which allow me to view every spring rainfall in
the field of marigolds in front of the
house
I like how you used parentheses in your poem – “but (thank God) not near the windows”! This golden shovel style poem is really well done!
I love this vision of you freely running around the yard screaming. What a wonderful thing to do on a beautiful spring day. Very well-done with the golden shovel technique (which I had to look up today).
Oh, Susan, those windows that “allow me to view every spring rainful in / the field fo marigolds” is such a gift to you and to us today.
Ha!!! I love this visual of you throwing the hoe and running around the yard screaming! Very relatable!
And thank you for bringing the calm at the end. Glorious, Susan!
Wonderful golden shovel full of feelings! Forget the weeds. Enjoy the field of marigolds.
Lol, Susan! I’m with Margaret, forget the weeds and enjoy the view from the “windows / which allow [you] to view every spring rainfall in / the field of marigolds in front of the / house”! Those weeds will wait.
Had I not started my morning with an article in the WaPo this morning, I, too, would’ve written a poem about spring bursting forth in a utopia where everything is beautifully budding while pollen counts are nonexistent. But I did start my morning with a WaPo that crushed my soul, one about migrant bodies being pulled from the Rio Grande, bodies that could’ve been the students sitting in my classroom because I teach mostly immigrant students, some of whom have crossed that river, one who was saved from that river.
So because I read that article, I could not NOT write about a perfect spring day where people aren’t forced to leave their homelands. Anything in this poem not informed by the article is informed by my experiences with my students’ families and my travels to Mexico and Guatemala last summer. Here is a gifted link to the article if anyone would like to read it: https://wapo.st/4aU5ZhH
If ever there were a perfect spring day
Emergency calls would not ring out
Bodies not pulled
Bloated from the Rio Bravo
And heaved
Into an overfull refrigerated truck
Never meant for migrants
Flesh barely clinging to bone
Clothing rifled for identification
To notify loved ones who
Refresh
Refresh
Refresh
Their whatsapp
Waiting for word that
Mama
Papa
Hermano
Hermana
Tio
Tia
Primo
Has crossed successfully
If ever there were a perfect spring day
A bridge across the Rio Bravo
Would be teeming
With people crossing both directions
Freedom to come and work
Then return home to a casita
With the warm smells of
Masa and woodsmoke
Tortillas hecho por mano
Tomates and chiles
Salsas rojas and verdes
If there were a perfect spring day
A Guatemaltecan would relax in a hamaca
Having finished the planting
Of the corn and beans
Which would yield strong harvests
And supply the cash
To easily send all the children to school next year
The woodsmoke carrying the scent
Of the pepian
And the chirping of the pollitos.
On a perfect spring day
The gangs don’t recruit
The extortionists don’t extort
The kidnappers don’t kidnap
The mafia doesn’t kill
On a perfect spring day
People
don’t
have
to
cross
the
Rio
Bravo
to survive
or die
And for some reason the “or die” won’t format where I want it to be, which is much farther right on the page because it is the body that has been swept downstream.
Wow, I am blown away by this poem and the tragedy at its center. When I read the “refresh refresh refresh” line, this transformed the poem for me from a tragic news story to something more deep, more personal. Thank you for sharing today!
Cheri, this is the poem that we all need to read. Your centering of humanity is lost in the rhetoric that drives our public conversation.
is devastating. Thank you for this.
OMG, this needs to be shared widely. The impact is indescribable just as the tragedies you so vividly share. My heart breaks. I appreciate your vulnerability and honesty and your need to write what matters most.
This hurts because I can’t even imagine:
Cheri, this is so heart wrenching (and so well-crafted). Thank you for writing and sharing this with us! I can’t even imagine this — “could’ve been the students sitting in my classroom because I teach mostly immigrant students, some of whom have crossed that river, one who was saved from that river” — so thank you for helping me!
Cheri,
Thank you for this. You took golden line and flipped it on its head by mingling it with horrific images that aptly capture the experience of many migrants. So heartbreaking.
Cheri, this is terrific and sobering, What a sad state of affairs — leaves me so sorry for these kids and families, for what could be, but leaves me in appreciation of the beautiful form and content of your poem.
I had to stop to cry. Your poem is so powerful. I feel the tug of your anger and the devastation to these families. You can’t unread the article. But leave it all here in safe space to scream when you need to.
Cheri, thank you for writing this. Everything about it is so well-crafted, including your idea to have “or die” floating off further to the right of the rest of the poem. The Spanish incorporated, and the idea of a bridge with people going back and forth sounds so lovely and human. Americans who already have work and a safe home need this also. We are losing our humanity by continuing to say no to those who need safety and jobs. Like Stacey, I think more people need to read this. Maybe you would consider sending a letter to the editor of WaPo with your poem? And to your congressional leaders. I hope we can listen in this country.
I hadn’t even thought about sending a letter to the editor of WaPo. Thank you for suggesting it. Unfortunately, my congressional leaders are the worst of the worst. They’ve never once fought for legislation that I agreed with.
Good morning, Margaret! This prompt is just what the doctor ordered! I love the exemplar poem by Billy Collins and your take on the perfect
Spring day. I’m visiting my (homesick) daughter in New Orleans and today is just the kind of day that you describe. I hope that it is a day as joyful as your poem!
On Visiting My Daughter in New Orleans
Throwing the curtain aside to invite the sun, I
look upon the creole cottage next door and hope
for a day as beautiful and vibrant as the catsclaw that
clutches and covers its roof. Perriwinkle skies promise today
will be a sunkissed invitation and I hope that this is
the day she needs. A warm embrace of a day–a reminder that
apart from family, a part of a world where kind
words and deeds are receding, a visit and the smiling face of
a loved one offers a bit of solace that carries from one day
to the next. Like a weathered picture in a wallet, a reminder for
the days that aren’t sunkissed that I will always be there for you.
“catsclaw that clutches and covers its roof”–love this for both its sounds and personification. This is a great sentiment that works well with your golden shovel line. Have a beautiful day with your daughter!
We have more and more in common as I read your poems, Dave. Used to live in New Orleans. I absolutely love this offering for your daughter:
“Like a weathered picture in a wallet, a reminder for
the days that aren’t sunkissed that I will always be there for you.”
so lovely.
My heart melts. I remember when I dropped my daughter off for college (3 hour drive) and literally felt like my insides were ripped out. I appreciate the love that pours from your poem as well as the beauty that comes from your window view.
I hope your daughter holds the love close and it will carry her through. Homesickness is a tough one but with your love, I think she will be just fine.
💙
Dave,
Aw, this was just lovely! I’m sorry that she’s homesick. I loved that last image, of the “weathered picture in a wallet, a reminder for
the days that aren’t sunkissed that I will always be there for you.”
And I loved your take on “apart” and “a part”
I hope you had a wonderful day together!
I have 2 daughters in New Orleans. We are 2 hours west, so our weather is very similar and this weekend has been the best all year long. Enjoy your visit and our brief but beautiful spring.
Dave, I live within a 40-minite drive from New Orleans, so your poem felt relevant and beautifully describing this day in NOLA. As Angie noted, the final lines are lovely and touching. Thank you!
Thank you, Margaret. I hadn’t read this Billy Collin’s poem. I took another of his lines that stood out to me: And the garden bursting with peonies.
Spring and Possibility
And the garden bursting with peonies,
Pink and unfolding in the sunlight,
Makes you want to open all the windows,
and let springtime come inside,
meander in all the nooks and crannies
of your dreary, old winter place,
creep under the dusty couch
to let the fertile fragrance in,
sweep into the rafters,
blossoming with spring scent,
Permeate everything with spring
and possibility.
Your lines “let springtime come inside,
meander in all the nooks and crannies
of your dreary, old winter place,” really hit a chord with me. I can’t wait until I can open my windows to let that fresh air do just that. Still too cold here.
“fertile fragrance” is my favorite for both the alliteration and the imagined (not imagined) scent of spring.
Thanks, Margaret, for this prompt! The golden shovel approach was a new challenge for me.
Spring Tennis
a game wide open
thirty all
the opportunity windows
in the day are scarce
housed in moments within moments
like nesting dolls
if there ever was a spring day so perfect,
we would find our focus, find success
in these moments
I do not play tennis, but I could relate to “the opportunity windows in the day are scarce.” Your poem reminds me that the goal should be to be present throughout the day looking for those “nesting dolls” moments. Thanks!
I really like the way you formatted your poem and the ending lines sharing how to find success through the ability to focus. I also appreciated the nesting dolls image and the tennis phrase “thirty all”.
I’m not a tennis fan, but my mother-in-law does not miss a match. Love the nesting doll metaphor.
Good Morning, Margaret, & Happy Sunday. The rain & cold of winter continues to play tug-o-war with a perfect spring day in Connecticut…but it’s. I’m ready for “outstretched arms playing airplane,” but for now I’ll work under blankets. Thanks for the prompt & sharing Billy Collins with us along the way.
I Think I Have Windex…
b.r.crandall
I’d unlatch a new beginning,
but the sump pump
is asking for overtime
and the lawnmower
just called in, “too weak
to cut the grass.”
I could weave another globe
for Shakespearean theatrics
with all the green blades
waving to the gray clouds..
The inside is longing
for what’s out there,
but these windows
remain smudge-smeared
with nostril Picasos,
her canine nose-art
& painted ghosts
still blocking the sun.
A few cyclists & walkers,
see me at my laptop,
watching them from the porch,
studying their (e)motions,
trying to put their wheels
& feet into words…
into puddles,
with more rain his afternoon.
The windbreaker is still wet
from yesterday’s mist & winds.
And the labrador across the street
no longer sits as their front door
longing for a walk & fresh air…
he took his last breath this winter
…indoors.
“nostril Picasos” is my favorite. What an artful way of describing the breath on the window. And then the last stanza noting the absence of that breath. It’s just helping to capture my own mood this morning. Even has my fat beagle likes sleeping beside me.
Bryan,
Your view from the porch is poetic! I love the “green blades waving to the gray clouds”. The imagery sings in this and the last stanza is a heart tugger.
Bryan,
So much to behold! I am captivated by the sights your poem deliver us. I, too, am stuck indoors with no signs of spring in L.A. Rain and cold…BOOOOO!!
Your ending hits deep!
“but these windows
remain smudge-smeared
with nostril Picasos,”
Bryan–I see that we live in similarly realistic worlds! Nostril Picasos! Perfection! Again, I find myself relating to your poetry (but that labrador…).
Bryan…how do you do it…make me laugh and marvel over images like dog-nose art on the window and the way you make the title “do more work” – I think I have windex, too, but I have a hard time wiping away my toddler granddaughter’s handprints. Not to say that nostril Picassos are exactly the same, but, in light of that lab across the street…I’s day they are. Back to my point: You make me laugh and marvel and somehow you sneak up with the danged blade. Again. I never see it coming!
…maybe I never see it coming because I need to USE the Windex? Lol.
How do you pack so many emotions from humor to sadness (last breath) into one poem? I was with you at every twist and turn. Thanks. Now I’ll go back to looking out the window.
I went from laughing about the mower to crying about the dog. It’s that laughing and crying in the same minute, and I need my own breath back – – what a lovely truth of a poem about the cycles of life and how we are here to seize the day – – and we must, for winter comes, and like all dogs, we too shall draw our last breath.
Margaret,
Thank you for hosting. Your prompt and poems are just the balm I need this morning. I love the freedom of flying you give us in your poem and how your last couplet Carrie’s us from imagination to incarnation. Thank you.
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
After Billy Collins
If ever there was a spring day so prefect
Our troubles would blow away
As the bluebonnets bobbed in the breeze
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
We’d gain the stillness
Of the cranes and egrets spied in the creek
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
We’d return to our childhoods
With the grape Kook-Aid smell of the mountain laurels
If ever there was a spring day so perfect
We’d loiter on the library lawn
And read all of our piled up books
I like how you structured this poem by repeating the Billy Collins line at the start of each stanza – it builds to a really pleasant scene at the end.
And just like that, “grape Kool-Aid smell” has me thinking about picnic tables, the coloring of mustaches from our drinks, and the refreshing liquid after playing hard outside before sitting to take a break. Love it, Sharon.
I love the 3 line structure here with anaphora of Billy Collins’ line. And give me some of that stillness of the cranes and egrets. The sight of them always amazes me.
I would like to spend that perfect day aling with you, Sharon! I would definitely want to “return to our childhood” even for a brief moment, and it would be so great just read, read, read. Thank you!
I know this is my own prompt, but it inspired me still.
If you want to know hope
as the deepest thing,
look at each flower blossom.
The iris yellow eyes like little candlelight
wrapped in a purple gown.
Nature plants seeds for us
to notice new life
to believe that God wants
us to rise up and wink at the sun,
to hear the sounds of birds
as they shout out loud,
We are here!
We are here!
We are here!
Margaret,
What a beautiful first line:
I do. And I, too, often find that hope in nature.
Thank you for sharing a second poem!
We are here, Margaret, always blooming with the possibility of a poem. Love the “yellow eyes” like candlelight.
Margaret, what a beautiful Sunday morning poem. I was hooked with “If you want to know hope / as the deepest thing” today, and that got my poem going. I love winking at the sun and the shouting of the birds, “We are here!” Yes to springtime.
This line really touched me – “to believe that God wants
us to rise up and wink at the sun”. I feel hope in those words about light and life. That is such a true lesson we can learn from all those flowers surrounding us.
I believe God wants us to notice – and to write – for it wouldn’t all be so glorious, would it??
Oh, to be seen and heard as these small flowers – it reminds me of His Eye is on the Sparrow……even the small flowers are known and seen in His creation.
Margaret, another beautiful poem! I also like to write aling with everyone when I host or in class. I love the first lines: flower blossoms do help us to know hope. I also am attracted to the lines:
“to believe that God wants /
us to rise up and wink at the sun.”
Margaret–thank you so much for this prompt. In fact, today does seem like
“a day so bright the pink azaleas
pop open like a birthday balloon bouquet,”
here in Taneytown. i am not a gifted nature writer, but I have fantasized a perfect day…
That Kind of Day
If you have had one (or two, if you’re very lucky)
days in which the stars align and life is beautiful–
I hope that today is that kind of day for you.
The birds are singing outside your window when you awake,
rested after a full night’s sleep,
before the alarm.
Your knees don’t crack when you hop out of bed.
The waistband on your pants is a teensy bit loose.
Your blouse thoroughly disguises the jiggly bits.
Your most comfortable shoes match your outfit perfectly.
You remembered to prepare the coffee maker the night before
and Hazelnut creamer is in the fridge.
When you pour the coffee, you don’t drip that little bit on the counter.
You finish it while it’s still hot.
Your eyeliner goes on perfectly with no smudges.
Your hair curves under and your gray strands gleam silver.
You solve today’s Wordle on the second try.
You have no messages that need to be answered.
There are five extra minutes before you have to leave.
You transport your phone, your work bag, your coffee,
and your water bottle on the first trip to the car.
The weather report calls for 70 degrees and sunny,
but you remember to take a sweater just in case.
The pollen count is low.
The car was vacuumed yesterday.
The snack wrappers have been ousted
from the passenger’s side.
The gas tank is full.
The sky is blue with fluffy clouds
Birdsong fills the air.
All the lights are green.
I hope that today is that kind of day for you.
GJ Sands
4-14-24
Gayle,
This is the best hope filled day ever! All the little things of preparing for the day from getting the Wordle right on the second try to getting out the door on one trip is my sincere hope for tomorrow, Monday, when I have early morning car rider duty, always a challenge. I need to get in the habit of prepping the coffee the night before. That could shave off a few precious seconds. Thanks for writing today.
Gayle,
I don hoodies to disguise mine. Couldn’t help but point out this WONDERFUL line. May “all the lights” remain “green” for you today.
“All the lights are green.” YES! I was channeling this energy today! And I love the fact that you get the “Wordle on the second try” because getting it on the first try would be just too perfect, too unbelievable, lol!
You know, I love a good golden shovel. The striking line I chose is tough because of the tense. But, I went with it and a lush description anyway. Isn’t that just like Spring and Billy Collins?
Margaret, thank you for this delicious prompt. I would love to taste a wisteria blossom and play airplane. What a lovely thought.
“If ever there were a spring day so perfect”
Billy Collins
Robin egg-blue would be the title if
April had a songbook at her piano. If ever
robins harmonized with spring, there
were daffodils and dinosaur clouds. And there were
cherry blossoms and stirring bees. A
greening from floor to sky…spring
a dandelion dotted day
sun-soaked then rain-soaked, then sun again…so
promising in so many spring-y ways perfect.
Linda, I can hear the style of Billy Collins throughout your poem, and of course vertically at the end of each line as well. Just like Billy going in and taking the hammer to the glass winter dome in Today, you have smashed that tense challenge to smithereens and delivered a perfect poem for a perfect day! From the robin egg blue and the piano music to the daffodils, dinosaur clouds, cherry blossoms and dandelion dotted day…..and then the sun/rain/sun just like a baby who laugh cries and cry laughs, it’s simply a delightful poem!
I love “robin egg blue” as a title for April’s songbook, and “a dandelion-dotted day.” Isn’t spring full of messages of hope and light? Thanks for writing today.
Linda, this golden shovel glitters…every single line sparkles with the joy of birds and music. I’ve written golden shovels and find them difficult – I have to hammer out the gold, for sure. Yours flows like these gentle rains and the promises of the greening world. So very lovely!
Margaret, thank you for hosting us today and for investing in us as writers. I had a taste of local honey yesterday on a biscuit, and while I’m used to the local clover honey we normally buy, we’d gotten wildflower. When I tasted the biscuit, the taste of flowers made that biscuit burst alive with taste! That’s why I stuck on these lines:
that you wanted to breathe more often
to taste the wisteria blossoms,
and what a joyful morning to start the day with flowers and with your lovely prompt to get us going as a kickoff to the week ahead. Here in Georgia, this weekend has been a perfect spring weekend! Cheers to tasting flowers!
If Ever There Were a Spring Day So Perfect
sun shining brightly would melt winter’s curse
planes would trail banners of poems and verse
flowers would smile pinkly, swaying in dance
groundhogs would high-five their weather-called chance
jasmine would fragrance porch swing breeze
beckoning readers to carpe this diem seize
sun-brewed sweet tea would pour extra-freely
buds would unfurl on branches green-treely
butterflies would turn pages of poetry books
hummingbirds sip nectar with grateful quick looks
napping hammocks would cradle a snooze
on a perfect spring day, we’ve got nothing to lose
wild bunnies would scamper, tumble, cavort
neighborhood club kids would hide in a fort
cows in the meadow would slumber unflied
folks would seek seashells on shores at low tide
woodpecker bellies would hammer with laughter
and the whole springtime world would live happy hereafter
This is magic. Truly. I love the way you played with words and rhyme. It brought a sweet silliness to the perfect spring day. Your images are so beautiful and fun. Thank you so much for this magical poem.
I am craving all of these spring glories! I love the image of woodpecker bellies hammering with laughter!
What a delight! All the invented words and word play work perfectly…unflied cows and green-treely and the way you use carpe this diem seize…it’s all fun and pretty at the same time.
I’m impressed, Kim, with your rhyming couplets. Yes to the jasmine scent from the porch. We smelled it yesterday as we sat outside on our deck welcoming guests for brunch. There are a few perfect days left before the heat comes in and I want to capture them all in a bottle or in poetry.
I’m ready for this, Kim. Any day now.
Nice couplets to offer hope from the rain.
your brilliant use of rhyme really drives these images. Such a beautiful poem about the many blessings of spring.
Kim, Kim, Kim… pure romp-rhyme delight. Such sparkling wordplay – green-treely, cows in the meadow slumbering “unflied,” readers beckoned to “carpe this diem seize” (LOVE), maybe most of all the butterflies turning the pages of poetry books… methinks it should be a children’s picture book. It is perfect joy.
Kim, what fun rhyming! Oh my goodness.
and “extra-freely” and “green-treely” and that last line! Great fun and joy in reading this springtime poem. Maybe a picture book!? And that last line “live happy hereafter” is priceless.
Kim, I absolutely adore the trailing banners of poems and verse – I need that illustrated in my room! Your playful words (carpe this diem seize and green-treely) set the tone for the shaking off of winter and unfurling of spring! I want to return to being a neighborhood club kid in this world.
Thank you Margaret for you prompt and poem and for inspiring me to relive my favorite spring day.
when we were april’s fools
if there ever was a spring day so perfect,
it was first day of April
2014
you were weeding
the sticky purple clover
of that humble corner lot
how I once hated that audacious plant
growing so fast and softening smartly
at the threat of the lawnmower’s blade
now I understand the nobility
of that soft bowing to the blade
it is resistance
it is wise
this yard work miraculous
after all the hard work
us- similar to spring weeds
composting our selves
over and over hoping for a
bloom
refusing to die quietly, easily
if there ever was a spring day so perfect,
it was first day of April
2014
my mam’s birthday
and I was staring
pink lines
now I understand
something more of miracles
how foolish and fickle
and there they are
back before we knew plants
or really anything,
on that so perfect spring day
right before you knew
you were going to be a father
you were weeding the clover
Kasey, there is a generational circle here in this clover that is resilient to the challenges. You share all the learning of the ages in that last stanza, and the clover weeding is metaphorical to parenthood in so many ways. I love that you take a simple (well, maybe pulling weeds seems simple) task on a specific date and go back to all its wonder and all the promise you now knew it held before the sweet news came.
Kasey, I love the narrative story here…such heartfelt experience. I can imagine the clover coming up year after year as the story carries on with new chapters.
Kasey, what a perfect love poem. I love how you start and end with the weeding of clover. I can see each image you draw and feel the deepening of understanding: “now I understand something more of miracles.” A beautiful poem. Thanks for writing.
Kasey,
your weaving of narrative and metaphor is beautiful and impressive. I especially love the last stanza which combines look back with more wisdom and zooming in on a moment right before a tremendous change:
Thank you for sharing.
Kasey, “back before we knew plants / or really anything.” I often joked that I’m a recovering environmentalist” because I became a homeowner. Nature wins every time, especially the “sticky purple clover.” Humans may one day lose, but the natural world will find a way to enjoy life as best as it can. Love the poem and thinking here.
What a wonderful surprise is kept inside this. I love the description of his obliviousness to what was happening inside because he was “weeding the clover.” And any one who has become a parent can understand that “back before we knew . . . really anything.” Childrearing has much to teach.
Kasey, I just loved this! You paint such a vivid picture of the moment. Loved this, the way you personify here:
“growing so fast and softening smartly
at the threat of the lawnmower’s blade
now I understand the nobility
of that soft bowing to the blade
it is resistance
it is wise”
Also loved:
“us- similar to spring weeds
composting our selves
over and over hoping for a
bloom
refusing to die quietly, easily ”
Beautiful poem!
Oh my goodness, Kasey – this is amazing! All that coincided on April Fool’s Day of ’14 is definitely miraculous. The very opposite of foolish trickery – even for the blade-wise clover. I love most how you say of miracles “how there they are,” so seemingly fickle – and these lines, which are profoundly magnificent:
now I understand the nobility
of that soft bowing to the blade
it is resistance
it is wise
Margaret, What a lovely poem to awake to on this Sunday morning. Both poems have me longing for spring to stay here in New England. This line especially spoke spring to me:
released from all inhibitions taking flight
You’ve encouraged me to try writing a golden shovel poem with a borrowed line from Billy Collin’s poem. It was harder than I imagined and it seems forced in places – I’ll play with this again, it’s surely a work in progress.
Spring Longings
The great blue heron flies into
view once again, while this
spring the waters, larger
with endless rains, a dome
of clouds consuming, out of
reach. Longing for blue
skies, warmth of sun and
flowers of snowy white
Christina, I would never have known you felt this was forced in places had you not mentioned it – the words and lines flow beautifully from the lift-off of the heron through the snowy white of the flowers. I know that as a writer, we aren’t happy until it “feels” right and that you’ll likely return to play with words but know that this feels right just as you have it.
Christine, I find golden shovels extremely challenging to write. I thought of writing one myself today but the line I borrowed kept repeating in my head so I went with that instead (ooo, a rhyme!! lol). HOWEVER…your golden shovel powerfully conveys the sense of longing. You captured my heart with the great blue heron. I see them often around here, these loners that never cease to amaze me, especially in flight, looking like some prehistoric creature of unexpected grace. I see your heron flying under the dome of this watery globe, with a sense of searching, searching…both relatable and beautiful.
This poem is lovely and so sweet. Thank you for voicing the irritation that writer’s can often feel when we want to birth something that isn’t quite there or refuses to come to the page how we imagined.
I feel this often, and I want to say this poem does not feel that way to the reader, but to also acknowledge I understand the frustration. Thank you so much for your words and vulnerability!
Christine, what a lovely golden shovel poem! I love it exactly as it is – when you start with a great blue heron flying and end with flowers of snowy white with some rain in between and a few clouds scattered through the sky, you just can’t help the smile creeping across your face when you think of the warmth of sun and blue skies…the great blue friend of the great blue heron.
“Longing for blue skies” sure is beautiful. That wonderful fresh New England air is there in between the lines. I can feel it.
Christine, I love the golden shovel form for what it offers us in new ways to look at things. Would you have used the word dome had it not been in BC’s line? The great blue heron is always a sign of hope for me. I think you should keep this one!
Christine,
your poem is so beautiful and pure. Im always thrilled when I see a heron and your poem gave me that same excitement. I hope spring reaches you soon.
I read the poem, Christine, and thought, “This sounds like the northeast this year.” Sure enough, a fellow New Englander. How radiant that great blue heron must be to see amongst all this gray….always evidence of The Great Whatever.
Christine, love the imagery in this piece. What a peaceful mood it sets. We have a great blue heron who lives on our lake — we live on a hill off of the lake, and our neighbor across the road has a pond, and the heron loves to hang out there — it’s so fun unexpectedly see him take off. They are so majestic.
Margaret, as we are tipping into spring, this invitation to play with the season is celebratory. These images really stood out to me in your poem: a day so bright the pink azaleas/pop open like a birthday balloon bouquet, and running naked, arms outstretched playing airplane. Both bring to mind the surprise that spring always offers and the joy and freedom that waking after winter brings.
a spring if ever there was
if ever there was a spring
(remember how they used to be?)
mudluscious and puddle-wonderful
full of r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r-s
and white chickens standing in the rain
beside solitary red wheelbarrows
and hosts of golden daffodils
heads tossing in dance
filled with a Light –
waiting upon the Lawn
where lilacs bloomed in dooryards
in an ever-returning spring
of Aprils dressed in trim
with the spirit of youth
i once knew a spring like that
(remember how they used to be?)
Ah, Jennifer – so many alluring allusions! You knit them together perfectly, masterfully. Not only is it fun to go line by line admiring the eternal blooms of other poets (basking in the Light upon the Lawn) – with their powers combined (yes I am alluding to the Captain Planet theme song of the ’90s), their elements create a perfect spring day. Those wistful ending lines – perfect in themselves.
I feel the mud, I see the dancing daffodils, and smell the lilacs – come to me!!!
love these full senses!
ahhhhh! So clever and so many of my treasured poems. Thank you for this slice of joy!
Jennifer, this is such amazing example of how poetry speaks to all of us – the William Carolos Williams and other references in here reach out and take the hand of the reader and have us shaking our heads in remembrance of those springs we knew – – those daffodils, dancing by the roadside, just waving at random cars with their great big yellow smiles along country roads, yes! I see it – – the lilacs in the doorways, and I feel it – the spirit of youth (well, I remember it even if all I feel is menopausal hip pain and wonder if that front yard Slip ‘N Slide was partly responsible for these aching bones)……oh, the joy of walking into memories of how spring once was, and thinking about it today on this perfect spring day. You truly capture it all right here, and it makes me want to go get some lilac to go around my front door.
Absolutely wistful and wonderful those hosts of golden daffodils are my favorite. And, I DO remember.
Jennifer, the longing in your poem is so real and touchable with your imagery (golden daffodils heads tossing in dance.) Mudluscious is a wonderful smashed word I want to save in my notebook. And then the nod the WCW and his red wheelbarrow. Yes!
Jennifer, and a Sunday spring day was even more delightful when young…all the possibilities of an open day. Adulting, however, fills the space with to-do lists while you have the space to do it. I prefer the prioritizing of kids.
This should be our goal.
Jennifer, love this nostalgic poem, and loved the callbacks to other poems within it! This line was everything! —
“mudluscious and puddle-wonderful”
Jennifer, I want to read this poem along with all the springtime classics alluded to within. Wouldn’t that be a sweet collection? Clever and beautiful poem today.
Margaret, I love Collins. His poetry paints such indelible images in the mind – some of my favorite lines come from him. I read his poem linked here and, as always, I’m awed. As I am by your verse composed from the perfect borrowed line. First, the wisteria. Then the bursting beauty of pink azaleas creating a desire so uncontainable that one could strip away all inhibitions and rise and fly “on steady wings” – such surety in this, such confidence…is this not what spring offers best? Thank you for every vivid, powerful line and the reminder that yes, we can imagine the perfect spring day.
Yesterday was such a day for me. I’m basically preserving it here.
April 13, 2024: Perfect Spring Day
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
I’d wake before first light
to find a poetry prompt
inviting me to write
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
I’d open the kitchen blinds
and there at the hummingbird feeder
a silvergreen female I’d find
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
then my son, alongside me
would lift his daughters high on the porch
five grayfuzz finch nestlings to see
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
the new azaleas would be a-rioting red
and the new hydrangeas I feared I’d killed
would resurrect, freshgreen, from the dead
If ever there were a spring day so perfect
you’d be in my arms
when the first male hummingbird
arrives, with rubyfire charms
and you’d wave at him through the window
Hi bird, hi bird you’d say, in your toddler way
draping your other arm ‘round my neck
—oh my soul, my soul, a perfect spring day.
Fran, this might just be the way to capture every perfect day – in a poem! In opening the poem with the discovery of the prompt that invites you to write, we find ourselves immersed in your words, as if you were writing the day for us, which you are! And we are delighted to follow your plot and meet the grayfuzz finch and resurrect alongside the hydrangea. This is a spring I’d love to gather in my arms.
Fran, I can so understand the joy of the hi bird, hi bird! Going beyond the words right to your soul. She was speaking your language of love of birds! I feel your joy
Wow! I love the rhythm and voice of this and the beautiful spring images! It’s just a lovely imagining of the perfect spring day!
Fran, there is joy in each stanza, in each line, and it builds and builds through flowers and birds (and wait….I believe I even see a glimpse of your grandmother in the hummingbird’s rubyfire charm shimmer, is that right?), and a resurrected thought-dead hydrangea back to say that plants and people are stronger than we think we are, and then the delightful words of sweet Micah, befriending a bird, making springtime memories there with you. I hear the lines of the praise song Bless the Lord, O, My Soul as you write your final line of this poem. What a beautiful day – yes, and besides living it and loving it, the next best part is that it is preserved here in verse, something that future generations will cherish long after our pens can no longer write.
Amen to it all…waking up to a writing prompt has been fantastic. I love it and all the writing that comes from it. My favorite line is “new azaleas would be a-rioting red” A very vivid image.
Oh my soul, you did have the most perfect day. And what better way to preserve it than a poem you offer among friends. The child’s view of the grayfuzz finch and her high pitched “Hi bird, hi bird.” You’ve covered all the senses of a perfect spring day. Thanks for writing so we can be right beside you taking it all in.
I love the sound of this, Fran
They say you can’t kill a butterfly bush, but sometimes my green thumb gets the blues. I hope the blooms return for you, too.
Fran, this is just gorgeous! Loved the rhyme scheme. And the poem, itself…Made me teary-eyed with the beauty of your day — so glad that yesterday was such a day! May you have many, many more like it. <3
Fran, wow! These quatrains are so joyful and delicious. This is my favorite right now. azaleas “a-rioting red” isn’t that the truth? And I’m so happy for the resurrection of the hydrangeas. And this word “freshgreen” So wonderful.
Next time I read it will be the last two. After that, maybe the first. It is that kind of poem. I love it all.