In my travels I met poets who wrote without
ever turning home or looking back to sing.
My family's spring wisdom and uncle's poetry books
have made me a compulsive poet, keeping in touch.
Spring reminders bring a reviving reverence for home.
Turning Ever Homeward
Spring cleaning and backyard working,
obsessive urging to undo winter's riddle,
her droll humor teaches her students
to laugh it off. Grandma always said
"First spring thunder, winter's back is broken.
Only kidding herself, thirst in a thimble.
Watcher of the sea and fisher birds
she warned us, “you be vigilant of the sky.”
Cloth of a north country poet in us all
is spun from simpler yarns than ever worn.
T. S. Elliot knew spring's cruelty, understood
diverse human need, an urge to make up
sounds and praises with each new flower,
and feel the pains of tubers bursting,
a covenant too complex for such a simple
hymn, just for kneeling and sitting down.
Spring’s cleansing rain and backyard
urge us to witness, reach into winter's lacking.
With droll humor, the season teaches all who
laugh off cosmic jokes. Grandma announced
"First spring thunder, winter's back is broken”,
as she watched, sensing the sea and fisher birds,
cautioned unspoken, “be more watchful, hear the
cries of a tilting gull, turning ever homeward.”
Poets who knew spring's cruelty, understood
the stories and promises of tubers bursting.
As the lesson grew beyond our call to witness
we knelt in reverence to all of nature herself.
©Jimmy Warner Design, 2016