Poem: 14 March

Well, I hope you are not too tired of these poems. But if you are, just click through! Forget them! I’m having too much fun to stop. More about the classroom later. Something about math.

14 March, 2014
10:08 PM. Clear sky. Dog breathes heavily nearby.

Redolent is an interesting word.
It reminds me of something indescribable,
on the tip of my tongue, like the
day’s last warmth wafting from cooling mud,
or the sound of melt water
rushing in the creek. Why? I can’t really
say, but somewhere in that word lies an
early spring evening under the turning stars
as the eastern sky relinquishes its last
cerulean, a slab of oak freshly opened,
the ting of the axe, the low hoot
of a barred owl across the valley.

–Steve Peterson

UPDATE: Just playing around with the podcast version of this poem to see what it sounds like.

 

2 thoughts on “Poem: 14 March

    • Redolent, perhaps? This Kooser-project has helped me stop and see things that I would normally pass by. And yes, the smoke from the fire inside was wafting through the air, mixing with the spring smells and sounds, like that moment in a step when one’s weight shifts to the foot in front.

      Thanks so much for stopping by.

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