|Photo by Ruth Rosauer|
I can’t translate this! I can’t write it!
It’s spring, my eyes dilate with an ongoing delight,
no end, no end! Ah me!
Still in April bare grey trees remind me that this is no dream,
this everyday, this every new day-
The cherry blossoms, first to bloom,
then scattering in breeze, reminding of snow,
and now today, lush and greener by the hour,
intent on producing sweet red fruit.
Every day, every day, no end!
The hummer’s return, a long, long drink,
fitting for one returned from Guatemala!
Welcome, wee warrioress! Battle on!
And then, ecoutez! Welcome the wood thrush,
her deep multilayered melody guiding me back.
Welcome thrush! Welcome me!
I can’t translate this, I can’t write it.
My eyes dilate, hummers buzz,
and the chickadee not two feet from me,
cocking and cocking the wee head,
seeming to want my finger for a perch.
A bluebird, shy as Spring’s first new,
and cardinals, and goldfinch! A riot of color!
I can’t translate this, I can’t write it!
Along the banks of the river, red bud,
misnamed in her purple gown,
paints filagrees in the forest canopy,
here there and everywhere,
suspended in a perfect ballet, sucking my breath away.
The new dogwood, still clinging to green,
not yet ready for the full openness of total white.
I can’t translate, I can’t write.
Pale yellows and greens creep tenderly up the mountain,
a turkey buzzard gliding on the thermal winds.
A great peace relaxes me all along my spine,
up to my tippy-top.
My eyes dilate, for the everyday of this,
it won’t go away, tomorrow and tomorrow,
hooray and hooray,
here’s my world come back again,
this day, this day, this very day.
April 21, 2005
I had a wonderful surprise yesterday- in the mail were my brand new copies of "These Trees," a book of photographs by the talented Ruth Rosauer, which includes the above poem and photo, on page 73!
There are twenty poets represented in the book, and many pages of Ruth's gorgeous photos and commentary, plus identifications of the trees.
Copies of the book are available at Ruth's website,