A mouth of purple crocus

One of the first sonnets I wrote, as an undergraduate, contained the lines: “A mouth of purple crocus opens through/ the snow, wild to speak the store beneath. / It carries coin.” I don’t remember the rest, although the poem is probably in a bin in the attic somewhere. The lines have been running through my head all week as the weather flips from warmish to snowy to springlike again. March is always a crazy month in my academic calendar, but I am ready for the madness, as long as it brings me color!

Elements of recent frenzy: I injured my right knee a week ago (I don’t know how) and my mobility has been limited; now that knee is improving but I’m realizing there’s background noise of inflammation and low-grade pain that I need to figure out and deal with. My son is at the state chess tournament in Charlottesville this weekend, which meant extra driving, although I’m happy for him. This afternoon’s report is that he played really well. Even though his rating is finally high enough that he was required to play in the championship division–meaning basically everyone he matched with was higher-rated, many of them drastically–he won half his games. And my daughter drove down yesterday for spring break, and it’s her birthday tomorrow. AND Aimee Nezhukumatathil was due to arrive yesterday for the second part of her residency, and got grounded overnight in Memphis, so we’ve been scrambling to rearrange things. That’s all on top of the usual busy-ness of the teaching year, plus trying to resolve all Shenandoah poetry submissions from the reading period that recently closed, plus hitting the crux of the AWP search for a permanent executive director (I’m off the AWP board, but on this committee), plus being stern with myself about carving out time for novel revisions (minimum of an hour 3x/ week).

All this means a lot of juggling, but except for the joint/ mobility problems–and the pain of rejecting good poems, because Shenandoah gets SO MANY GOOD POEMS–I’m feeling optimistic. Put that little spark of good feeling against a big gray landscape–the treatment of refugees at our borders looms large for me, as well as the worsening environmental crisis–and a bunch of purple crocus isn’t worth much, I know. But I’ll take it.

2 Comments on “A mouth of purple crocus

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

NZ Poetry Shelf

a poetry page with reviews, interviews and other things

Hoarded Ordinaries

Mundane musings from a collector of the quotidian

Selena Chambers

I imbibe words and consume past minds. As a result, I often awake next to strange sentences and forgotten meanings.

Frank Hudson

The Parlando Project - Where Music and Words Meet

Erica Goss

Poet, Writer, Instructor

Spalding University School of Creative & Professional Writing

Low-Residency Graduate Programs – MFA, MA, Certificate

O Write: Marilynonaroll's Blog

Thoughts on writing and reading

The Great Fogginzo's Cobweb

poetry. observations. words. stuff.

Julie Mellor - poet

breathing through our bones

UnIambic

(The poetry blog of Grant Clauser)

Hosking's Blog

Into one's life a little poetry must fall

risa's pieces

Scribblings in awe of poetry, transitions, mutations and death

sisyphus

Rising towards the light...

Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

Lightning Droplets

Little flecks of inspiration and creativity

Ellen Goldstein

Writer, Editor, and Writing Coach

ReadWriteDream

Reading and Writing Children's Books

%d bloggers like this: