Blooming in Winter

We have certainly experienced such mild winters as this one (so far) since we moved to West Cavan seventeen years ago. I do remember a Christmas Eve dressed in just a light pant suit with a scarf at my throat, not needing gloves. But it is also very dry, instead of wet, too. And I like to record these observations, that some Januarys are full of frost, ice and snow. Others see the snowdrops six weeks early in raised beds and other bulbs popping up.

Blooming in Winter

The azalea in bud on Stephen's Day
bloomed one single blossom the day she died.

I remember a January day
nearly forty years gone, seeing roses
in Victoria Park, Hackney, London,

blooming despite what felt like bitter
damp and cold, bone soaking and searing all
simultaneously, a mystical

wonder, or wonder of some sort, some kind.
There in a two-faced month of dark and cold
that bulbs would peep out and there are some bold

enough to bloom early, pioneer plants
at the vanguard, with a differant
narrative. They wear lanyards spelling hope.

Nothing can be completely done or dead.
Some bloom early and others late, wither,
die back, return. We each find our own thread.

See the length stretch out. Await the scissors
or harvest scythe. The cut. The gathered fruit.
The miracle there will be blooms again.


Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.

Featured image: Photo by TOMOKO UJI on Unsplash

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.