Spring Poetry

it's bursting from me like the lupine on the sand ridge.

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Stinging nettle makes an invigorating spring tea, if you can avoid the tiny thorns.

A Spring Diamante ( Inspired by Janisse Ray’s Journey in Place)

                   Snipping 
                Urtica dioica
for future teas, tinctures, and salves.
        Stings like fire ants when
            the grand boys run
             barefoot, free, and
                       wild.

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Spring in the Swamp

The more I see, the more the swamp sees me. 
The veil is pulled back more with each visit.  

As I make my way through the swamp,  
woodland salamanders (red-backed) scatter under foot, 
green anoles run up small trees and across branches. 
"Welcome, welcome, yes, come sit awhile."  

I make my way to the 100 year-old fallen mother oak, 
run my fingers across her bark and feel her soul speaking to me, 
"Come my child, sit and watch, become one with the swamp.  
Leave your troubles behind."  

I feel safe here. Protected, loved, seen. 
Serenaded by warblers, vireos, titmice, cardinals, and kinglets 
as they gather in the low branches around the water's edge.  

After a time, I make my way back up to the house  
and stand under the new, spring-green canopy of the live oaks. 
Lavender lupine blooms on the sunny sand ridge. 
I see a red, trumpet-shaped bloom fall slowly from above. 
 
As I bend to pick it up I am struck by a memory, 
of the trumpet vine that Granny grew on her light pole in her yard, 
where the hummingbirds gathered by the dozen. 
"Hey honey, I see you." ❤️ 

Trumpet Vine (Campsis radicans) blooms high in the tree canopy of the swamp.

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I hope you enjoyed this small spring offering. Let me know what’s happening in your
”neck of the woods” in the comments below. I leave you with the melodic birdsong of the swamp.

Many blessings to you!

B