Today’s a cold and cloudy March day.
Friday, the day of the photo above, was sunny and warm.
March is a very in between kind of month. The temperatures can fluctuate 50 degrees from one day to the next. The promise of spring, with green poking through the ground and buds on the trees, is tempered by flurries in the forecast.
For many years, I wrote on Blogger. You can find my blog here. Much of my writing there was focused on nature, parenting, family life, and books and reading.
“Nature therapy” features often in my life. And in my writing. The benefits of time spent in nature - both for our physical and our mental health and well-being - have been researched and reported upon extensively.
Seven years ago, on the first day of spring, I was exhausted after a hard day at work. I took a walk in my neighborhood and wrote the following poem. Both the walk - and writing about it - restored me that day. As they always do.
From “cell phone/nature poem for the first day of spring” (March 20, 2017):
***
walking down the hill
through the forest
toward the river
mid-march and
i'm mesmerized by
everything-is-brown
mud beneath my feet
decaying oak leaves
intertwining branches
of standing and fallen
trees and shrubs
the greenish-brown
flow of the river
all browns against the
bright blue sky
***
i default to
the-modern-trap
taking photographs
i stop and consider
my willingness
to let technology
intrude on my walk
to look at things
through a phone/camera
***
but I want to
remember the
seemingly stoic seagull
being pulled nonchalantly
by the swift river current
she does not seem to mind
***
so i start
tapping out
notes & phrases
on my phone
it is a contradiction
i am aware
of contradictions
i am full of them
***
but still
***
what i hear is…
crows caw-caw-cawing
trees creaking as
they bend with the wind
the unmistakable sound
of a woodpecker
the bark of a dog
from somewhere above
***
i leave the main path
drawing closer to
the soothing sound
of the river flowing and
bubbling briskly
over large stones
***
i stand among
dried out grasses
cool hands
breeze on my cheeks
hair blowing
i look around me
and across the river
i am alone
i sit down and just
listen to the water
close my eyes
in the wild beauty
of this wonderful
and ordinary place
when i stand up
and turn to walk
back to the main path
i am surprised to see a
young man fishing
on the same side
of the river
and not too far away
***
returning to the path
there is a makeshift
walkway boardwalk
covering muddy areas
my fluorescent-hued
running shoes
discordant on the planks
another contradiction
my colorful feet
squishing in the muddy path
crunching on dead leaves or
wood chips or gravel paths
***
as i finish my walk
i spot across the river
a possible kindred spirit
she stands still
watching the river
***
i walk up to
the park above where
people walk dogs
young men occupy
the basketball courts
a couple of families
enjoy the playground
***
i am grateful
for the gifts of
the sunshine and the warmth
the beauty and the life
of this afternoon
the first day of spring
As we move through March and beyond, may we find comfort and restoration in the nurturing rhythms of nature.
Perhaps…
a walk in the woods
buds on trees and bushes
bulbs coming up in the yard
snuggles from a furry pet friend
a bouquet of tulips
a thriving houseplant
…or any other reminder of the beautiful presence and interconnectedness of life.
Thanks for reading!
With gratitude,
Mary
Happy Spring! Reading this beautifully descriptive poem, I could SEE all the things while reading it!
Yay! Poetry! I love when you share poetry. :-)
One of my favorite poets is Billy Collins. One of my favorite books of poetry is his book Picnic, Lightning. As a kind of intro or forward to this book of poems Billy shares
"We spend our life trying to bring together in the same instant a ray of sunshine and a free bench."
-Beckett, Texts for Nothing.
and then, as an intro or forward to the first poem of the collection (A Portrait of the Reader with a Bowl of Cereal) he shares
" A poet .... never speaks directly, as to someone at the breakfast table." - Yeats.
Your poems also put me in this frame of mind. :-)
Lovely, lovely, lovely.