at the kitchen table
explaining to my son
how poplars sprout from runners
using my hand as metaphor – reaching out –
seeing the idea root in his mind
as he spreads his hand too
little shoots of thoughts struggling for the surface
and I’m sensing that green fervour surge again
the sap rising in me
feeling sixty feet closer to the sky
swaying in a wind of leaf flutter
I can hardly stop trembling
until he calms me saying
there’s a songbird nesting in your hair
and quietly we listen to the carolling thrush
in the kitchen bursting with poplars
up from the floor
through the roof
reaching for the beckoning sun
By chance I encountered Cindy McKenna’s art piece in the Wild Goose Studio Canada in Blyth, Ontario, and delighted in the similar imagery. It sparked an impromptu reciting of the poem in the gallery… and more shoots of thoughts.
Image used with permission.