photo inspiration hosted by The Sunday Muse
I can hear the water elementals raining a warpath.
Behind me, the wake of my tires drowns yards.
***
Spring has been distracted by a dalliance with the snow
Her toes are softly lacing the ice and frost nearby
A cold beach
Curving over the sidewalks, over the lawns.
She drives her love up against doorways
Leaving the world
Underneath.
Her footprints are tide pools of grass.
My truck could probably run its own tracks
Most nights, third shift to Wal-Mart and back
But that morning it was just light
Catching on the blooms she'd abandoned
And we went astray and I could smell
Through the vents
That yard where I grew up, the house, the street...
I stole her flowers.
They smelled like cut grass and soggy Gulf Coast mornings
They smelled like falling back...like
Fifteen, all the anticipation of the glory to come.
I turned toward it, toward the rising sun.
They say it's the jet stream.
I drive through the rain, avoid the streets I can
Only recognize through the mailboxes
Above water. I feel the wake I leave
In the heavy forward pulse: heart, wrists, engine.
I can still smell the flowers and the old house
It's just a few streets down. It could use
Beauty and I could use
A morning forearm-deep in the beds
Against the brick.
Her footfalls sound like hail.
I'm just a block away.
Hope everyone is having a good week! This is being shared with Poets United and The Sunday Muse. Looking forward to spring planting...
-- Chrissa
Loving the verve and lyrical originality on show here, Chrissa. Many sparking lines and thoughts... "water elementals raining a warpath..." amongst my favourites... A lovely read - Thanks...
ReplyDeleteA beautiful read on my sunny afternoon. Alays feel better when flowers come int bloom and beckon the onset of a beautiful Spring . . :)
ReplyDeleteSuch splendid imagery in this one, Chrissa!❤️ Especially love; "They smelled like cut grass and soggy Gulf Coast mornings/They smelled like falling back...like Fifteen, all the anticipation of the glory to come." Wow!❤️
ReplyDelete'Her footprints are tide pools of grass.' Beautiful Chrissa! I feel like each line is leadimg me closer and closer to spring!
ReplyDeleteI love that they smelled like fifteen, all the anticipation of the glory to come. Oh, yes.......what came for me was disillusionment, but then, finally, glory. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteI love the pivotal line of
ReplyDelete"I stole her flowers"
which to me turns the poem in a whole new direction (home)
Lovely lyrical writing!!
ReplyDeleteThe hail-sounding footfalls gave me pause. I wonder, wonder, wonder... what the meeting will do to the flowers and feels.
ReplyDeleteOh, I found myself nodding at the words that spring has been distracted by a dalliance in snow. (Way too long, I must add!) And I must say you are lucky to have a truck to get through all that snow.
ReplyDeleteOh, the theft of flowers.. This is such a beautiful poem
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the journey you took us on, lovely write, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteA pleasure to read. Love - love - love: spring 'toes are softly lacing the ice'. Now that's an image!
ReplyDelete" the heavy forward pulse: heart, wrists, engine." That just put me right there. You have such a knack for making the ordinary into something gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteOh! I'm breathless, i'm a truck in the snow, a truck in the flood, a part of Spring tiptoeing on ice, a thief of flowers!
ReplyDeleteIn the heavy forward pulse: heart, wrists, engine.
ReplyDeleteI can still smell the flowers and the old house
It's just a few streets down...I love this line so much.
Yes i've hearing of the Winter/Spring tango in some parts this year. How you record it and poem it is sensational.
ReplyDeleteHappy you dropped by my sumie Sunday today Chrissa
Much🌻love
So much here. I was really taken by "She drives her love up against doorways" and "Her footprints are tide pools of grass." I love the confession in the mix, stole her flowers.
ReplyDelete"Her footprints are tide pools of grass."
ReplyDelete"They smelled like falling back...like/Fifteen, all the anticipation of the glory to come."
"Her footfalls sound like hail."
Wow! A very effective storytelling with such deft metaphors and images. :-)
Beautiful, beautiful descriptions!
ReplyDeletewow, what an adventure! what great storytelling.
ReplyDelete"Her footprints are tide pools of grass.", great image. shows us so much in so little words.
I love you you described the beauty in early spring days without softening the ferocity of them. It is a bit like being fifteen.
ReplyDeleteI love the word play of water providing life to the blooms. Beautiful.
ReplyDelete“Her footprints are tide pools of grass." Love that image!
ReplyDelete