Winterworld OR In Anticipation of Spring

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I have often commented on the blogs how love takes on all shapes and appearances; love of family, friends, places, whatever aspects of nature and human nature that can be relied on to bring out the best in us, distance us from anything less. 

A reader writes that “Such positive thinking is all very well, but “… it’s only a theory, so typical of a poet. How, in practice, can it see we ordinary human beings through the likes of a pandemic or such intense personal crises as any of us are likely to experience at any time in our lives?” 

Well, the short answer is that there isn’t one, only as many to choose from as there are aspects of human nature. 

Regular readers will know that, some 40+ years ago, I attempted suicide, so great was the crisis I needed to confront that I felt I couldn’t even make a start, and what was the point?

The point was, of course, that we all need to confront our fears; running away (as regular readers will know I have often done) solves nothing. Somehow, that same ‘theory, so typical of a poet’ found a way through my unconscious self, and I awoke long enough to seek medical help. 

The next four years were a waking nightmare, but such support as I hadn’t expected from certain work colleagues, friends and various professionals saw me through it all. Finally, I found myself taking up the threads of everyday life again, starting a new job, and waking up each morning without mind-body-spirit feeling all but overwhelmed. 

I had a garden in those days. Birdsong, through such summers as were almost as bad any winter, helped me in ways I had no way of understanding until, some years later, I began writing poetry again, something that had seen me through such childhood crises as haunt me still, not least for my never having understood those either. 

While I suspect few if any of us ever (quite) understand ourselves, I like to think I have at least learned (better late than never) that we human beings can do a lot worse in life than take our cue from all the natural world has to offer, not least by way of making the best of and surviving even the worst of its wintry elements.

Many thanks for dropping by the blog, folks, always much appreciated,

Hugs,

Roger 

WINTERWORLD or IN ANTICIPATION OF SPRING 

I spied a starling
flying low, seemingly heading
for a tearful tree,,
the name of which species
escaping me,
the archives of my memory
all but running
on empty, so intense the toll on me
of everyday anxiety 

Barely skimming
the tree’s uppermost branches,
starling appeared
to have a last-minute change
of mind, taking off
in another direction altogether,
as if sensing
little (if any) welcome to be had there,
no rising above despair 

I spied a redbreast,
wings a-flutter in the bitter wind
like a flag of hope
among snow clouds spreading
mixed emotions
among various generations below
for anticipating
multifarious joys as snowfalls may bring,
or yet more suffering 

Alighting on a branch
of so woebegone a tree as appears
struggling so
to stay alive in the total absence
of any pointers
to spring, robin raises a weary head
and starts to sing,
its sweet voice drying Earth Mother’s tears
as it has for centuries 

Imagination or celebration,
tree taking its cue for a new lease
of life, as well might
its listeners all, we creatures great
and small,
for cock robin’s messaging wintry worlds
that the nature
of love demands no words or romantic setting
for the joy of its giving

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021