Alder

I just opened the latest New Yorker (May 31, 2004) and saw this poem by Scottish poet Kathleen Jamie. I thought it was so appropriate I had to post it:

Alder

 

Are you weary, alder tree,

in this, the age of rain?

 

From your branches

droop clots of lichen

 

like fairy lungs. All week,

squalls, tattered mists:

 

alder, who unfolded

before the receding glaciers

 

first one leaf then another,

won’t you teach me

 

a way to live

on this damp ambiguous earth?

 

The rain showers

release from you a broken tune

 

but when the sun blinks, as it must,

how you’ll sparkle—

 

like a fountain in a wood

of untold fountains.

 

—Kathleen Jamie

Update: By the way, you may find knowing a bit about the mythology and folklore of the alder helps in reading the poem.

12:39:48 PM      trackback [] 

Irises

Irises are opening up all over. And no, that’s not a political statement, although it could be. If only more would open up. But I digress. I noticed iris flowers on my last walk – days ago now given the chilly rains we’ve been having. There were a few growing wild by the side of the road when I was out last week, and the cultivated ones were just opening up behind picket fences in town.

I looked up Iris online and found out that she was the rainbow goddess and messenger of the gods. Also, she is “represented as supplying the clouds with the water needed to deluge the world.” Well, that explains the weather!

As it gets more and more lush outside, I’m feeling more and more stagnant – from lack of exercise and fresh air, and also lack of work. I’m still waiting to hear about the big project I could get for the summer. I do have a couple of smaller projects lined up for June, barring schedule change. Fortunately, I’m fairly busy socially, otherwise I’d want to crawl into bed and stay there until the sun comes out again. I hear it will tomorrow.  I’m looking for that rainbow.

11:20:08 AM      trackback []