poetry

germinating

germinating

Today the sunflower seeds have split.
They sit like toques on tall green crowns,
leaves not yet spread
but muscled up from the soil
after the kiss of drenched earth
swelled them to bursting,
sent them twisting upward
toward the slow fire of sunlight.
Now their subterranean selves
are held in midair,
incontrovertible evidence that buried potential
may emerge into the light.

My son, fourteen, has sowed plenty of other seeds,
but is still stirred to see so plainly
the black-and-white striped husks
perched atop the sprung green.

Now the cells of these new sprouts
should keep splitting until they, too,
bear golden crowns surrounding
the next generation of smooth striped packets of hope
ready to be pushed into the waiting earth,
ready to split and rocket into light after only
a week’s worth of sunrises and sets.

My son sits paused at the end of boyhood
waiting for the silent prompt that sends
his own cells doubling, his blonde crown
also stretching to sun. He waits, and takes on faith
that like the simple black seeds,
his body houses the knowledge needed
to transform and grow,
to shed one phase for the next,
to thrive in the light.

poetry

first cleared lot seen

first cleared lot seen

driving home from the vet today
not thinking of anything
the flat beige lot hits me
like a frying pan across the forehead:
the first cleared lot I’ve seen,
ready to plant a new life on
like the bright green grass
now painting the black hills
with unexpected hope,
its strong roots dug into
the same tough earth,
ready to reach toward the light
tomorrow

poetry

fireweed phenology

fireweed phenology

I don’t know
how two long ladders
of fireweed blossoms
could open all at once

I’m not sure
which is more alarming –
all that unfolding
in a single day

or the chance that yesterday
I failed to notice
the buds’ seams had begun to split
spilling all that fuchsia
into July sun

poetry

cuttings

cuttings

one small olive-green leaf
with waxy white bloom
laid gently on a soft bed of soil
will not rest
first it will root
leaf meristem will morph
become what is needed
for this time and place
discover how to grow down
into the deep silent dark
how to become acquainted
with the ways of worms
the frequencies of underground sound
life without wind sun stars
the pressure and exactitude
of finding each fine fissure
where the tiniest root hair might take hold
and then, only after
leaf has tied itself to earth,
it will go back to stretching
trying the feel of new aspects
finding a way to elevate
the flow of energy
to enter the upright world again
with the exhilaration of becoming
more than the world knew
when one first awoke