"I think that we're beginning to remember that the first poets didn’t come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder and said, “Ahhh.” That was the first poem."
– Lucille Clifton
See all the poetic events this month in the sidebar.
My goal for Poetry Month:
TINY THINGS.
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| Antennaria microphylla - pussytoes |
I found my topic for the poem and post today by returning to nature and the past. I've written more than once about the primitive cabin in the mountains which we owned for years. I wrote for the first time here, nearly six years ago. The cabin became an important part of raising our children, allowing them to learn to love exploring and just "being" out of doors as much as we did. Then, last month I wrote one post that shared about selling the cabin. I have the fondest memories of our time there, the beauty I enjoyed and discovered. And aside from great times with family and friends, I renewed my love of nature, the living things along with the natural objects we often ignore like the brightly colored rocks in the stream, and the huge ones that were "living" in our meadow. These pussytoes were favorites to find, tucked within the wild spaces, spring greetings.
Pussytoes
When touching the tips
of these pinkish blooms,
one only needs to know
the down-deep softness of feline feet
to understand why the name’s complete.
Linda Baie © All Rights