where you will find me…
Poem - for my mother; inspired by spring life on the hill… euphoric (adj) characterised by or feeling intense excitement and happiness. "a euphoric sense of freedom"
There is a feeling that bubbles uncontrollably within me at the start of every month of May. An anticipation of light and colour, of romantic frolicking — although not of the human kind but yes, I still feel that glow, a warmth that pervades the body, even now when so many years sit on my shoulders — in meadows awash with wild flowers, seeds caught on a breeze, the sight of the hare, ears pricked, soaked in dew, just visible above the flora… (a photograph I dream of capturing and never have) of deer grazing far off down the valley, the scent of Hawthorne blossom in hedgerows, glowing buttercups, ragged robin, delicate blue flax all glistening with dew, a parade of prolific diversity serenading the day. Who, cannot be touched, delighted and relieved that once again they return? I cannot be alone in this euphoria surely…
Where you will find me…
Where you will find me
on a bright May morning
when soft light
filters through mist and new leaves
dappling shadows
on a warm breeze…
Here!
But of course…
in cloud song
wrapped in soft whispers of smiles
dancing the blue
of woodland carpets
watching hare breathe
misty puffs
dispersed in air
hidden
(he knows I’m there)
in secret crooks of old chestnut trees
warm and still in gnarled
aged bark blankets
intoxicated by fresh
mossy damp
And here too…
where dandelions send a trillion wishes
in meadows alight
with clouds of seeds
waltzing
in twirling tangos
caressing, soothing
wishes for the world
for the poor, the sick
the lost souls and the lonely.
Here,
in the euphoric joy
of slanted rays
buttercup golden
the balm
of dawns spirited light
leaping
defusing
blurred gloriousness
from cinders
of night turning day
and singing,
goodness yes…
always singing
a choral symphony
in rhythm
with the clouds…
In all these
ecstatic places is where…
Words for my dear mother who would have been 79 today — time will never stop the memories, it simply renders them more bearable…
“And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.”
― Virginia Woolf,
Such a beautiful image for such a beautiful post! I just love this!
You certainly are not the only one who feels the euphoria of this time of year. What a delightful poem speaking of all those moments of euphoric joy - I would sure love to have a moodle through each of them. Also, a lovely dedication to your mom