All posts filed under: poems & poetic prose

this moment in time

    The lilac tree is late, in a negation of what lateness is to fecundity – she stands there, punily bare and of a lesser green, almost lost and unseen against the crab apple and her bright and riotous loudly glorious dress of almost, almost almost but not quite pristine whiteness: there are still buds as pink as berries and this morning’s blossom still carries a ghost of pink nacre on their interrupted velvet. The lilac’s is grey silk, old and worn and pale and stale and still bare and barren and late. In my contemplation, I reflect that in the collective soul of my primordial fold, trees are female as is the grass – givers of the life they alone can bless, they can but be called by the lasting caress of a woman word: and thus lateness, blame it on the stalled Spring or some other fate or indifferent word, or on the tree’s lost strife against changeability, becomes fall – and thus Nature without redress will die by man’s sword.   …