Discovery Drafts

Dad, when did you learn the name of Odin Whose name you would cry as we roared across The Sound in your motorboat, salt-spray Foaming on you red hair and freckled face As you harnessed the power of the sea To fly? Odin:  Norse god of poetry, War, wisdom; solitary wanderer Through the cosmos, restlessly searching. Did you call “Odin!” on landlocked Sundays As you walked the dog through spindly birch, Sea deep in memory of island pastures Returned to wild spaces where you imagined The fierce greatness of a wild All-Father, The might and mystery of the sea, without apology. In Memory of George O. Carlson 1939-2020

These wildflowers of western Connecticut have returned despite the bone-chilling cold of our spring nights, random snowfalls,  windstorms, and thunderous downpours. Pretty amazing.

In your sure hands, Dread Persephone, Seeds sleep, Gestating in the Deepest memory Of darkest earth. Treasure beyond treasure, Keeper of life, Who would seek you Would find release From death Knowing the wild winds Tearing through treetops But leaving the magnolia untouched The daffodils upright, And the earth throbbing with life Are your hands at work Reaching for your mother, Reaching, reaching, Until you find her.

Persephone, You are all foreground and sunshine Blessing the barren heath With flowers-- Evanescent fragrance, Color, light-- That soften a hard landscape As they take hold and grow, Reaching deep into dark earth Where heroes and gods fear to go, And rising toward the sun. Daughter of Demeter, Daughter of Zeus, Hades claims you, And the underworld Makes peace with the life force: We rest to live, Live to rest, Melting with the snow, Blossoming with the flowers, Reveling in the harvest, Sinking in good time To the fearless earth, Satisfied.

All day yesterday the rain pounded, and I watched the daffodils and forsythia as the wind tore branches from the trees and flickered the lights. The wild force that so many tree limbs could not withstand the little yellow flowers did. Can we begin to know the mysteries of life? Our World Tuesday

Spring Is daffodils pushing Through soft, yielding earth To the soft opening of the blue sky The forsythia, too, Long arms reaching for sun and earth. The promise of a long drink, Brambles coming to life With tender green leaves Prickers ready to defend nascent fruit From the bear of appetite Laughter in the breeze Green life freckling the soft, moist earth Where you dare not step Into the memory of winter And the false starts of early spring. Spring Is the fading tan Of ash leaves Holding on yet To all that was and is here Waiting for the right moment To release what was into what will be. Those leaves from last year Disintegrating under the weight of your footfall? They are spring, too.