this periwinkle faith
brown-crushed-dormant
through sunless seasons
what of your pleading attempts
to will it into being?
now green so clear it hurts
stretching sunward on nothing more
than instinct and half-forgotten roots
not to be pressed in a book
or plucked to judge its shape
but let it spring lush where it will, overspill
your stone-built walls, all in a night
when no one is looking
Graceful Press Poetry 
I love this one, Jennifer.
Every time I go out–or even look out the window–I’m mesmerized by the beauty of the season, and how quickly it changes. Trees suddenly developed the feathery green leaves last week, and almost overnight, they’re filled in.
I love “periwinkle faith.”
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you. I am trying to be attentive to all the daily changes. Stopping to smell the blooms 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Exactly! 🙂
LikeLike
‘Periwinkle faith’ is something I’m engaging with for sure…i stare at a crumpled vine or crackled leaves and then lo and behold tiny green starts to appear underneath ( I am uncertain what to trim so leave as much as possible until I see what happens….)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, I think this is a good plan–and so exciting to hunt for that green in the brown. I recently read that it’s good to leave the winter debris as long as possible in case there are late-hatching insects hiding in there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am getting the feeling more and more that less activity can be better in the garden…or perhaps less of some things anyway…
LikeLike
“green so clear it hurts”–I feel that way about blue and skies sometimes. Beautiful. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, yes. Skies are probably the #1 reason I wish I could paint…sometimes words just can’t capture it.
LikeLike
“stretching sunward on nothing more
than instinct and half-forgotten roots”
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
the point when I thought there might be something in it 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person