The Darling Buds – Forsythia

Long winters birth meek springs

Buds and blossoms slow to unfurl

cautiously feel their way through the still

frozen nights

But

sandwiched between the forest and the field

there is an explosion

forsythia

rising golden and unafraid

It lives in the future, fearless with

Joy at the tips of branches

Joy as a perfume in the air

Joy in the willingness to stare into the face

of the unknown

and blossom

Forsythia – Anticipation

Every May (and sometimes fashionably late in May because of a lack of blossoms), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.

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For more anticipation in the face of danger, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

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Prelude

The first steps of leaves

are always fumbling, unsure

Buds spread in every direction

The fine fuzz of birth slowly hardening

into a firmer and less innocent shell

This is the beauty of spring:

it is always somewhere

someone’s first dance

into the sun

The beauty of hope

I love the starting dance steps and the final steps and all the steps in between.

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For more dancing, metaphorical and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Sleeping and Waking

Do they dream

those not yet opened buds?

Before there are flowers

do the slow-unfurling petals

imagine the face

of the sun?

What do the buds know of the world they are about to enter?

I’m always fascinated by the giant leap between development and living.

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For more waking to mysterious worlds, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Scenic

We speak of scenery

as frozen snapshots

moments as beautiful

as they are sterile

stripped of context

and mosquitoes

and there is a difference

I think

between the pinned and catalogued

collection of  distant mountains

of long-passed  perfection

and standing in the messy brush of the sub-alpine

and feeling the mountain

beneath your feet

The world is best experienced by living it

There is a distance created with perfect imagery that loses the true power of imperfect reality.

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For more of the imperfect business of living, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Spring in Waiting

Some years the sun

battles the weather

and the birds rise confused

singing of mating

as the snow slowly

smothers the wary buds

There’s a queer stillness to silent warfare between spring and winter

Spring is seldom an easy succession here.

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For more successions, easy and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Transitions

I waited in the city

and anticipation tasted sweet

and disappointing

but there is something to be said

for opening a door

and stepping into

magic

It is hard to describe the power of an alien world outside your window

There are few words to explain the feeling of realizing your front door is a portal to adventure.

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For more portals and adventures, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Treadmarks

Roads are seasonal

whimsical things

the big ones can be seen

nearly year round

if you are a careful observer

but most of the smaller

shyer paths

can only be found

when the elusive

northern vehicle

lets its tracks burn through

the thawing ice

You can also lure out northern roads with salt

Some days, it amazes me how anyone survives the winter here.

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For more tales of winter survival and elusive machinery, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Still Waters

The frantic energy of running water

seems like a force that can’t be challenged

and it is strange

to stand on the frozen bank

and no longer feel

the heartbeat

Water is the bloodstream, still or moving

I am always fascinated, and unnerved, by the way that winter puts life and movement on hold.

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For more freezing, and thawing, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The River Runs

There are so many rivers here

They form the land’s bloodstream

Connected and connecting

Cut through and scarred by

Careless roads and railways

Still, they pulse, washing outwards

Always surging into the heartbeat

Of the sea

Life begins with water

I am always awed to be a small part of the many cycles that pass around me

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For more cycles, wet or otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Intoxication

The birds flee

to coasts to rivers to

places where snow is a dream

and not a nightmare

There are always some that stay

small birds

more noise than size

They have strange ways of handling

the winter

Mostly, waiting until the ash berries

rot

and getting themselves drunk enough

to forget the cold

or be eaten by the sober hungry

Some coping strategies are less deadly than others

Intoxication is always more dangerous when things want to eat you.

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For more coping, dangerous and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.