Welcome to the March Gathering of Poetry… the day when Bonny holds a space for us to share our love of poetry.
I have nurtured the habit of reading some poetry every day. I have been doing this now for a couple of years and the impact that opening a book of poetry, noting the date, and reading a poem or two is dramatic. The space I hold for poetry almost feels sacred… it is intimate… just me and the words of the poet. It is just a few moments, but they are the most impactful moments of the day.
The poem I am sharing today is one I read some time ago… but it is a poem that has stayed with me and every spring I think of it again. Barbara Crooker is the poet… and I think she is brilliant. You can find more about her here and find some of her poetry here. I found this poem in The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy.
Forsythia
by Barbara Crooker
What must it feel like
after months of existing
as bare brown sticks,
all reasonable hope
of blossoming lost,
to suddenly, one warm
April morning, burst
into wild yellow song,
hundreds of tiny prayer
flags rippling in the still−
cold wind, the only flash
of color in the dull yard,
these small scraps of light,
something we might
hold on to.
Forsythia by Barbara Crooker in More in Time: A Tribute to Ted Kooser, University of Nebraska Press, 2021.
Image used courtesy of Borabelle *
Perfect – the forsythia I can see out my office window has begun to pop open!!
This is wonderful! I had a longish drive to Newark airport yesterday and all along the way the forsythia was budding and blooming. I don’t have any in my yard, so it was a lovely surprise to me. I appreciated the “wild yellow song” that I saw for miles and miles!
That is such a great poem, Kat! I have had similar thoughts about how the forsythia branches must feel. I love the image of the blooms as tiny yellow prayer flags! Perfect!
This so perfectly captures how forsythia blooms — suddenly and insistently! Thank you for sharing.
I don’t think I’ll ever look at forsythia the same!
I’m using my imagination here …as it was 19° this morning, and I went out to check on my daffs and they are frozen. Solid. However — my fake forsythia wreath on my front door?! A light in the dark! Just like your post this morning. Thank you for that.
♥
for years that bush hasn’t impressed me and this year is the first year I thought it was beautiful! What a great poem.
What a lovely poem. I noticed a forsythia blooming this past week on my walk – in March! in Nebraska! Crooker is a wonderful poet. I have one of her books on my shelf. Now I have to go find it.