Winter Talk
Under my
palms
the
forsaken garden
moves
with the clamor of bulbs.
Their
secret gossip-mumbles
murmur
through the muffling
of their port red cage.
Tangling white wild hair,
Tangling white wild hair,
they
dance handfast
deep in
a strong gypsy curl,
pushing green fingers up the
pushing green fingers up the
yeasty
dough
of broken-down things,
listening
of broken-down things,
listening
for Time's peelback
of the
onion earth.
~January 2013
55 potential grape hyacinths for the g-man
Process notes: the word Port in the poem refers to Port Silt Loam, the official state soil of Oklahoma. Bet you didn't know our politicians had named special official state soils for us, along with state birds, songs, wildflowers, etc. But apparently they have lots of time for that. Still, it's a very common soil type in Oklahoma, and is named not after port wine as you might think, but after the small town of Port in Washita County. Those caring to continue their horticultural education can view a soil section of same below, courtesy of wikipedia:
Header image (c) joyannjones, 2013
This is a wonderful little (not so little) poem. Such great sound with the clamor of the bulbs and their gossip-mumbles. (And they do have a busy-bodyish quality.) The end is especially strong, I think, Time's peelback of the onion earth, though there is something terribly mournful I think about that. Anyway, like it a lot. Once we tried to plant something like 80 bulbs upstate. Not one came up. All eaten. The local animals were apparently not attuned to Time's peelbacks. (Ha.) k.
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed, k. Next time plant daffodils--they're mildly poisonous to critters and nothing will touch them, even gophers and moles.
DeleteSounds good. I think they were tulips. It was very disappointing.
DeleteThe yeasty dough of broken down things is, btw, lovely image - one hopes for the rising again (as you bring out). k.
Yes, tulips are great delicacies for a lot of subterranean diners--voles especially love them. I only plant a very few up close to the house anymore. Years ago when I was planting for the City, we used to stick powdered bone meal in the planting hole, and the neighborhood dogs would dig them up for the squirrels and rabbits. ;_)
Deletetimes peel back of the onion earth...already the growing is happening, prepping for spring to burst forth new life....enchanting bit of gardening hedge....
ReplyDeletethese things grow in caves?
smiles.
I love it!
ReplyDelete"yeasty dough
ReplyDeleteof broken-down things"
What an incredible image! There is something perfect about those words. The heart and the hope of it, I think.
Brilliant...especially love this:
ReplyDelete"pushing green fingers up the
yeasty dough
of broken-down things,"
brings to mind nature cooking up a beautiful feast
What noisy soil you Okies have!
ReplyDeleteI like Mother Nature to just relax for a while.
Beautiful and very poetic Hedge.
Nice to have you back.
Loved your Dirty 55
Thanks for playing, sorry for forgetting the Goats Head Soup, and please have a Kick Ass Week-End
Ha! NEVER forget the goat's head soup man. It's very bad karma and could even keep you from having a well-deserved kickass festivity of choice. But not this time. Just this once I'll cut ya some slack.
DeleteBeautiful portrayal of nature's stirring. It's pretty hard to hear any clamoring amoungst the bulbs around here. I think they are nicely frozen (along with assorted nasty insects, I hope). Happy 2013!
ReplyDeletethis makes me feel all achey: "yeasty dough
ReplyDeleteof broken-down things"
Wow things are growing again already?! You paint a great picture with your words. :)
ReplyDeleteThe second stanza is gorgeous... and deer - do they leave daffodils alone? Might have to try them.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Margaret. Yep--they taste bad and give them a severe tummy ache.
DeleteSOMEONE is aching for SPRINGTIME, looks like!
ReplyDeleteI love when reading something makes you feel those tiny movements of nature and make you wonder .. beautiful post !
ReplyDeleteNow that is a sight for sore eyes: evidence of life going about its business underground, and then breaking through.
ReplyDelete..."In a strong gypsy curl..." Indeed! it is hard sometimes for me to be patient and exact enough with bulbs- yet many do come up! such an inspiring write- thanks.
ReplyDeleteLove the potential underneath the earth. How cool to know Oklahoma's state soil. I wonder what Iowa's is...
ReplyDeleteI love the thought of the bulbs gossiping together under the earth, and earth as onion!
ReplyDeleteNew life readying itself to spring forth. I long for spring bulbs to push through and bloom.
ReplyDeletethere is a dance in your middle stanza that grabs me. the thought that spring is activating, underneath it all, is exciting. this poem is robust with action and color. love it, and all it foretells.
ReplyDeleteIs there anything more hopeful and uplifting in January than green things poking stubby fingers up through the earth? My heart always skips a beat. I am already watching for "signs".
ReplyDeleteI really like those last 8 words, and always love it when you draw inspiration from gardens, both real and imagined.
ReplyDeleteYes, I suspect they do talk...love the "yeasty dough/of broken-down things" and Time peeling back the earth. Thank you.
ReplyDeletelove time peeling back the earth.. i always like to look for signs too..
ReplyDelete