Poem: Intimate Spring

Intimate Spring

Yesterday the berries were encrusted in ice,
bound by winter's brutal beauty, but
this morning, the last of the ice has melted,
and awaits the change of wind

to pull the final reminder of the season,
and drop it to the spongy ground below.

You watch the limbs whip in the wind,
sharing this intimate moment,
this passage of seasons, experienced
in a vague way by so many,

experienced so acutely by you in this brief
unveiling of beauty before your eyes.

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The picture was taken in Rupert, Vermont. You can click on it to see a larger version.

The poem was inspired by something I have begun to notice about new visitors here. There are patterns to what poems titles or subjects people search for that bring them here. For instance, the first of the year, most new visitors were looking for poems on "sin" more than anything. No matter where in the world they were, that was by far the number one topic of poem that people searched for. Why would that be? Something about the new year?" Something else. I have no idea. I just know it's so.

This past month, the huge majority of searches that bring people here have been "sunrise" and "shoes". You try to make those two make sense.

But that got me thinking about how, somehow, there is some universal things we experience - love, loss, victory, the seasons, and yet, we also experience them very, very individually. And from that random thought, this poem.

Tom