I might see a crocus bloom.
But I’d likely freeze to death
before that happened.
Only my bones left
when the snow has melted
to see the purple fingers
of newborn crocus
reaching for the sky.
My ribcage could be
a serviceable cathedral
for mousely vows
said under springtime moons
and earthworm princes
to find the objects of their quests.
I’m afraid I’m too selfish to share
this space my heart is used to
taking up with just any random
invertebrate or rodent.
So I’ll pull my hat down lower
to cover up the howling of the wind,
a serviceable cathedral
for mousely vows
said under springtime moons
and earthworm princes
to find the objects of their quests.
I’m afraid I’m too selfish to share
this space my heart is used to
taking up with just any random
invertebrate or rodent.
So I’ll pull my hat down lower
to cover up the howling of the wind,
go inside where my tea waits for me,
and come back to this place
when the crocus is ready for me.
and come back to this place
when the crocus is ready for me.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
Song Choice: The Waiting by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storyteller United's Friday Writings, Feast or Famine.
I love the image of our ribcage as a serviceable cathedral and understand you not wanting to open yourself up to share it.
ReplyDeleteThat image stuck with me too. And like you, Colleen, I totally get it. Some spaces are just... ours.
DeleteI loved the heavy lifting that image did when I wrote it down. So many interesting thoughts suggested themselves when I pictured it, from twee to macabre, which really does describe the inner landscape of my heart quite well sometimes. :D
DeleteLove the image of your ribcage cathedral for mousely vows! And I understand your longing for crocuses.
ReplyDeleteThis has been the looooooongest January ever.
DeleteWinter is good at playing mind-games, at making us yearn for warmer things (unless one is Kit, that is). It is wise to acknowledge that, as well as the fact that there will be crocuses... eventually. And, for now, tea is yummy (maybe even flowery, if one wishes it).
ReplyDeleteKit was a very delighted doggo this morning with all the snow. I am grateful for the existence of long underwear.
DeleteIt won't be long now! Enjoyed your poem.
ReplyDeleteI keep reminding myself of that!
DeleteHocus pocus, come on crocus!!
ReplyDeleteAAAAAAAaaamen!
DeleteOooh imagine what a cool sight that would be though! XD
ReplyDeleteLOL, I knew you'd find it as cute/ cool as I did
DeletePurple fingers of newborn crocus is such a perfect image. Love it
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteGreat writing, Rommy!! Will never think of my rib cage in quite the same way ….
ReplyDeleteLOL, it is a rather striking image
DeleteI have missed feeling your writings. Note to self "must remember Tea time with Rommy" XXX
ReplyDeleteI always enjoy having people over for tea!
Delete"My ribcage could be
ReplyDeletea serviceable cathedral
for mousely vows"
What a great description! I'm with you on the crocus.