These mornings

For dverse

These mornings

These mornings heavy with rain,
drops quivering on grass stalks,
where wings flutter quiet as feathers,
I listen for the spring

clamour in running water
and the chant of chickens,
dog-bark at windblown scents
of fox and deer.

Listen, the oaks are singing,
leaves not ready to fall, give up
their root and anchor to young buds,
burnish-bursting where chaffinches peck.

These mornings, I listen where the thrush
pours water music above the stream,
and in the bird quiet in the deep earth
where my feet tread,

I hear the root and branch seething,
soft seep of worm galleries,
and the piping voices of sprouting seeds.
Spring-bubbling source of earth magic.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

65 thoughts on “These mornings”

  1. Another wonderful poem , Lady Jane. The word-smithing so fantastic, the “sound words” are just part of the warp and weave. I liked, “dog-bark at wind blown scents of fox and deer.”

  2. Your senses were attuned in this one Jane. โ€œโ€ฆburnish-bursting where chaffinches peck.โ€ Really like that!

    1. Make the most of it. You have the winter ahead of you before you get to spring. We’re in the depths of it, but as soon as the cold lessens, there’s a feeling that we’ve inched a bit closer to spring.

      1. Yes, my older daughter and I have often wondered that about the oak tree across from her building. Despite wind rain and snow, those brown leaves hang on.

  3. This made me think of an Oracle-inspired poem, but then, of course, she would be in tune with nature. (Pun not intended, but it fits.) This is full of such lovely sounds! I love the compound words, “burnish-bursting,” “spring-bubbling,”. . .

    1. Thank you ๐Ÿ™‚ The Oracle is always around. I found the prompt words difficult to fit in. They wouldn’t have been my choice in most cases. Odd because there are some quite ordinary words among them.

  4. My goodness this is exquisite! I especially admire; “Listen, the oaks are singing, leaves not ready to fall, give up their root and anchor to young buds, burnish-bursting where chaffinches peck.” ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’

  5. ‘I listen where the thrush
    pours water music above the stream’ – a beautiful sound poem, I particularly like these lines.

  6. Absolutely beautiful, Jane. I want to go on this walk with you for real.
    “These mornings, I listen where the thrush
    pours water music above the stream,
    and in the bird quiet in the deep earth
    where my feet tread,”
    This stanza….I’m smitten.
    Would LOVE to have you come to dVerse LIVE today and read this aloud. It’s just begging to be heard! Just come to the regular site between 3 and 4 for OLN…there’s easy directions and a link to click on. Would be so fun to see you and hear you read this! I’m hosting…consider this a personal invitation!

    1. Thanks Lillian, and pleased you enjoyed the poem, but I’m not a joiner. Even if I was comfortable with the idea of being seen and heard (which I’m not), our internet connection is too feeble for visual link-ups. We have to be within two yards of the router to get it at all.

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