Today’s poem, “Announcement of Imminent Departure,” springs from daily life, spins a poem from a recent confluence of conversation and weather, and a recognition of the inevitable fleeting brevity of each moment. Here is a snippet of what I learned this morning, after I was alerted to the meaning of certain configurations of bird flight from my sister, Karla.
“Kettling apparently serves as a form of avian communication—an announcement of imminent departure—as well as a way of gaining altitude and conserving strength.”
As I wrote today’s poem, I was also thinking of how our mutual celebration of National Poetry Month draws to a close tomorrow, making way for something new.
The influence on today’s poem that I knew at once was my visit yesterday with Tim and my sister, Karla, to the Minneapolis Institute of Art to see the annual extravaganza that is Art in Bloom. Previous posts have featured past years’ intersections between the art in the museum’s permanent collections and the creativity of the area’s floral artists.
The influence I only realized as I was preparing this post was my love of a poem by William Butler Yeats called “A Coat.” If you don’t know it, or if you want to reread it now, it is available on the Poetry Foundation website HERE.
Now I am intrigued by “Miss Lily Place.” “Prodigious shopper in the Suq”! Really, one cannot make these things–even these names–up!
People watching is as much fun–maybe more fun–than seeing the permanent art and the ephemeral floral creations inspired by it. My favorite image is the penultimate one!
Today’s poem is a straight-forward seasonal inspiration from the garden. I always cheer to see these tiny, luminous spring ephemerals. Sometimes the timing of their blooming has coincided with Memorial Day and I have included them in bouquets I have made to place on the graves of Corrine and Elvin Heiberg in nearby Oak Lawn Cemetary. Now, researching them for this morning’s poem, I am aware not only of the power of their beauty but of their powerful poisons–not sure I will pick them again. If I do, it will be with caution and even more reverence.
Zebra Iris LeavesZebra Skies Last EveningClose-up: Zebra Iris Bloom
For some reason, all unreasoning, I love stripes in nature and in the built world. Zebras are my favorite animals. So when I discovered this Zebra iris, oh, perhaps five years ago, I bought some for our garden. Some years they bloom, but even on off years, I cheer the emergence of their dark- and light-green stripes. Someday, I will find that perfect-to-me unicorn, the iris with black and white striped blooms. Meanwhile, I will enjoy such chance encounters with zebra skies (in my back garden last evening) and in the garden of someone who lives near the Minneapolis Institute of Art. I also read and re-read a favorite poem by Gerard Manly Hopkins, “Pied Beauty,” whose immortal lines I am sure you know:
Glory be to God for dappled things-- For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow....
For this botanical term, I also went off-road from Rosendahl’s glossary, since I had a “Z” inspiration near to hand.
Looking Back: After I wrote the poem, “Rhubarb,” on April 18th, Tim told me that “rhubarb” is not only a plant but also a baseball term! Does everyone else know that? It means a dust-up between players, fans, and umpires–think “ruckus,” “heated disagreement” or even “fisticuffs!” I wonder why the connection to “rhubarb”? Perhaps something sharp “barb” that one regrets (or “rues”)? If anyone knows the etymology, please let me know.
Looking Ahead: During the next four days in April, the last of this year’s Poem-a-Day Challenge, I part company with Rosendahl’s generative glossary. Look forward to (or look out for!) four Wild Card poems.
Photo: Felix Broennimann, polygon-designs (pixabay)Photo: Leslie Schultz “Polar Zebra”
Again, I am filling in the gap left by Rosendahl (no entries for “Y” in his otherwise extensive glossary.) I think yarrow, a member of the aster family, is very beautiful, and I am drawn to its pungent scent. I also love that it can, warrior-like, hold its own against the juglone secreted by our black walnuts. Today’s poem, “Common Yarrow,” rises out of my explorations into the botanical name for common yarrow (Achillea millefolium) and the plant’s presence in human history in Europe and Asia. Thinking about the different histories and uses of this familiar garden flower helped me to get to know it a little better. I will be tucking a little more yarrow into our garden in the coming weeks!
