By J.J. Tindall
Darling Buds
“This is what I mean.”
Said the wind.
“I am music, I am motion,
I carry
The gods.
I enswirl you
With fresh light, ensnare you
In the dust of the darling buds
Of May
(Which seem to come so suddenly,
Like the new sunrise, now off kilter.
You look away a few days
And everything changes).
“This is what I am,”
Said the mind.
“Trained by art
To see winter’s black-and-white sketch
Filled in inexorably
With the myriad colors of spring,
Like rich, fat oils and lush pastels
Over brusque charcoal.
This is life again.
This is what I mean:
No life without death,
No spring without winter.
From grimace to smiley-face,
From bud to bloom,
Each a tiny, supple eruption
Of grace.
Fresh light through the roof
Of this prison of time,
All according
To my favorite rhyme:
Wind and mind.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on May 4, 2018