Sunday, January 19, 2014

Poetics — Looking up at the source



My mother described the tiny place she rented
in Reno, the place in that town that became my
first home. I recall nothing of it except
what she told me: It was miniscule, a room
in the back of someone's house - with a private
entrance off a courtyard. She cooked her meals
on a warming plate and breastfed me as the
January snow fell. In months her husband
was gone and it was quiet, so quiet then,
a silence broken only by our crying for
different reasons. The seasons changed to
a tentative spring and she introduced me to
the courtyard, where, bundled warmly and
laying in a buggy, I fell in love.

The glorious giant spreading above me began
to bud and to teach me slowly about time, showing
me day-by-day how that season would change
to another. My mother marveled as I lay there
contentedly— hours long staring up,
eyes moving from limb to leave to bird to blue
blue sky beyond. Soundlessly, I would weep—
bright baby tears streaking my face—all the while
smiling.




Written for dVerse Poets Pub Poetics, where host Björn Rudberg's exquisite prompt is Under the canopy, and invites us to write tree poetry. As I have had a lifelong love affair with trees it was difficult to decide which one to consider, so I went back to the source.
.

16 comments:

Fireblossom said...

This is the coolest thing I've read all day. I loved it.

kaykuala said...

A nostalgic journey back most poignant and fascinating. It is something of a yearning to relate to the loving care of motherhood. Wonderful write Lydia!

Hank

steph said...

Beautiful... sad and heartwarming at the same time. And visual... great scene, great story.

Abruvanamedsly said...

Wow...this punches you in the heart then hugs you at the end...most definitely felt.

kj said...

a gorgeous painterly story, lydia. it made my day too and i will remember this about you now for evermore; about you and your Mother and the gift of a canopy.

love
kj

Brian Miller said...

have to agree on the emotional ypull in this one lydia...that courtyard sounds like a pretty magical place to be...a special place...i am rather fond of trees as well....

ds said...

"…limb to leave to bird to blue/blue sky…" so eloquent. This is nostalgic without being sentimental Lydia. Your connection to that tree is palpable. Thank you.

Midlife Roadtripper said...

I often left my sons in their strollers, lying down with the trees and sky above. The fresh air mingled with the sounds of the outside.

Enjoyed this piece. Very lovely.

Björn said...

Lydia.. this is absolutely amazing.. the tears of joy looking up into the marvel of the canopy... absolutely captivating

Other Mary said...

This is the coolest thing I've read in many days! Wow Lydia...really an amazing write.

Kim said...

Beautiful as always. But this one struck me in particular. :)

grapeling said...

I'm with Fireblossom on this. Remarkable ~

Kathe W. said...

this touches my heart- I wonder what my chidren remember.

Rob-bear said...

Delightful, Lydia. Strangely real and natural.

Blessings and Bear hugs!

susan said...

I well remember being deeply in love with trees watched from the bottom up. Thank you for inspiring such a delicious memory now that winter's here.

FOLKWAYS NOTEBOOK said...

Lovely words about trees -- we learn so much from them -- barbara

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