For those of you familiar with my work, you may have noticed much of my poetry relates to nature and its transcendence within and beyond our life’s experiences. Love, intimacy, relationships…for me all these are interconnected with the wholeness of being I find revealed in nature. The more familiar I become with writers in this online community of writers, the more I find other writers who find meaning in their own relationships with nature and its interconnections with their personal and emotional lives. My book Spent reveals that aspect of myself to an extent. Like much of my work it focuses on the way relationships work in the intimate personal spaces of the spirit and heart. When we write of the natural world, we each see through our own lens. But I think that we, as human beings, are intrinsically bound by nature, by our very nature. I was reflecting on my tendency to use metaphors of nature in my poetry I have learned that in writing about a season, I usually find a poem moving in one of several ways. Most seem to find their way to a reflection on transition. But some ultimately reflect on the various changes in personal relationships over time. Others ultimately reflect on changes and transitions within life as we live it. Of ourselves, of others, of those we love and those we don’t, of conscience, of compassion, of hard truth, and of joy. And for me, the over-arching reality of love and spirit, I find present in nature in its countless, mysterious ways.
As with many of us, I think, we are drawn to examining change within and around us. One of the iconic metaphors of change is the turning of the seasons. This week it is growing colder. Fall is moving quickly toward winter. The leaves that remain on trees are brown. The leaf litter I love has the scent of change. We have had first frost. It snow-flurried yesterday. Soon deep cold will settle, and by January the ground will be as hard as iron until thaw. In looking over past poems rooted in this time of change, I found two that I think best illustrate for me how I have used the same season to find meaning in somewhat different aspects of life.
One is in the same vein of my poems about love and relationships in my book Spent. The other is….well, after all, both of these poems will become for you what you yourself make of them. It’s as it should be, I think. We find meaning, in many highly individual ways, to the same poem. We as readers and writers find poems. And poems find us. Some we let go of, sometimes before we even finish them, if we absolutely know there is nothing there for us. More often, at least for me, I finish because the writer has revealed themselves to the world and I respect that and look to see what they are sharing. Here, in this online community of writers, there is so much value in listening to one another.
These two seasonal poems are in two separate posts. One is titled Denial. The other is titled Hard Frost.
(Sorry…see my About for links to my publisher, Finishing Line Press or to Amazon for the purchase of Spent. I really dislike the pragmatic promotion of professional writing, but let’s be realistic, income is a necessity. Sigh.)