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February: Thinking of Flowers by Jane Kenyon

Posted on Feb 9, 2009 by

A poem for a winter day

Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white—the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me . . .

Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.

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I like how this poem progresses—a conversation with herself, but not stuck—moving.

First, a description, as if she’s looking out a window–
Nothing but white—the air, the light

Then the longing—
A single green sprouting thing would restore me.

The pause . . .

And then the response—to her own self, to us—
Then think of the tall delphinium

One of the things I like best about writing is the way it can keep an internal conversation moving.  Thoughts have this tendency—well, mine—to sometimes get stuck in one place.  Say, that wind-tormented field, which can, in turn lead, at times, to a kind of loop of wind and torment.  But writing—something happens—a green thing can sprout.  A blue delphinium.  A burgundy lily.
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Read more about Jane Kenyon at the Poetry Foundation