In winter, I force five bulbs
to bloom in soil—feathery
in aroma— ready to settle
down with water— a thick
mud made to cradle dreams
of prettiness caught inside
such sleepyheads. I am
watching, this time, for
the moment of surprise:
streaks of blue, or is it gray
-green, shooting out of soft
spots? Domes of thought
becoming the sounds I
utter when I see clusters of
stars crowding morning’s
sill— a soft percussion of
paperwhites greeting me
on days of winter’s gloom.
M.J. Iuppa ‘s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 30 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
Good bless
ReplyDelete