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The return


You are
the sliver of blue behind the grey
the yellow stripe on the crocus
the pungent plum tree blossoms
the insistent call of the plump chickadee
the arching green tulip leaves

Today,
I whisper prayers of gratitude
to Spring
as she awakens
and brings
you

a midnight poem

I unclenched
my fisted
grasp on hope

until the day I sat before you
and asked

a shift

galloping, hope arrives

I steady myself
then spin
inside it

a new word

my eyes are so heavy and i can honestly not believe that i am not in bed. here is the reason why: i simply had to write a poem.

i took susan wooldridge's poemcrazy class on thursday and i have an energy around writing that is filling me up to a near-bursting level of joy (though, i assure you that if you were sitting here with me you might question that as i have been a bit grumpy all afternoon).

this draft of a poem was inspired by a necklace i bought from nina bagley at vendor night (i can't wait to show you a picture of the necklace soon). in susan's class, she gave us the prompt of "the ______ says." so tonight, i played with that prompt and wrote this:

the bird says

this morning
I awoke to an open door

as I pondered its purpose
stagnate years
whirled
around me
until
with ginger steps
and breath
I unfurled and
grasped the space

this evening
I am uncaged