Poetry of Form

I sat outside tonight and listened to the symphony of the birds and the wind. I put my phone upside down, and agreed with myself not to pick it up til i finished my glass of red wine. No answers to “how fast do cherry trees grow?”, “will it rain tonight?”, or “where to buy wild grass seeds colorado”. It was the best night of my week.

I watched as birds began to come back to the tree in our yard, waiting a bit from the sudden noise of a door opening. They swooped down and around the tree, haphazard until you paid attention to the patterns. One red-breasted male followed a particular female around, always on her heels if she alighted on branch or ground. He chased away other suitors and quested after her with his red feathers flashing in the evening light.

The clouds rolled along ponderously, a noticeable speed, yet not making notable progress to their goal. Many were lit underneath by the yellowing rays of the sun, and the top a brilliant white, still high enough to see the sky and the sun’s midday glory.

In the air, a coolness belying rain to come. Petrichor in every breath. A wind that was just on the edge of chill, but not cold.

New life, new growth, and a new season.

As in nature, so my life.

I’ve entered a new season of growth, I think. God has brought me to a new place, one I’ve not visited before. It’s as if I’ve been unbound and unchained, free now to take hold of the life I’ve been dreaming of and pining after. To be clear, following a breakup a few days ago, I am sad to see a branch of my life die. Things that could have been, people and places I’ll not see now, and yet it brings me to a refocus. In the wonder and love of a young relationship, I poured myself into the “us” and neglected myself. I’ll freely admit, I was stagnating. In the days since, all the things that I would have wanted to grow myself in have become like blazing signs in the sky. So I’m leaning into the unknown. And I think it’ll take me where I’m supposed to go.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Doyce Lord says:

    Love your post and the picture Josiah!
    Love ya, Granny

    Doyce
    Sent from my iPad

    Like

  2. Dian Lawrence says:

    Josiah, your poetry is beautiful. Your words are those of a literacy unknown by most. Your sensitivity defy your years and gender. Your perceptions are a compass. Move ahead. I admire your ambitions and your talent.

    Like

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