These are the Days
These are the days
soon to be “the good old days”
even though I considered them old
when I lived them
With my sons grown
and life’s commitments slowed
I blink through clouds of golden pollen
bringing post nasal drip
and fuzzy thoughts
that don’t feel like mine
These are the spring days of no rain
when I drag myself around
with a metaphoric 10 pound bag
of unplanted potatoes on my back
I sit every chance I get
hoping to catch the chickens in the act
It’s usually just one that escapes the coop
then acts amazed to find herself
on the other side
Soon she misses the flock
and nervously paces the fence
She floats like a ghost out of place
looking for a way back in
These are the days of dirty hands
from planting garden shop flowers
because the ones from seeds take too long
I repeat the same schemes of color
and my shovel somehow finds
already loosened holes from years ago
A flirty first swallowtail gets my attention
and the chirping birds
are like the ones I first heard
through my open bedroom window
when I was a girl
They woke me in summer
when we had no school
Now they mark the cadence
and the transcendence of time
They make a bridge of song
from the good old days
to the older ones
From now to then
and back again
_____Colleen Redman / Poets United / Real Toads in Imaginary Gardens
April 24th, 2016 1:51 pm
This is lovely. I especially admire the birds, making a bridge of song from olden days to back again…..so lovely.
April 24th, 2016 2:58 pm
Love the garden thoughts as spring comes and loosens memories…especially of the bird song.
April 24th, 2016 3:13 pm
The spring would be so lovely if it wasn’t for the allergies… some rain has ti be great help
April 24th, 2016 5:46 pm
Sorry for your pollen allergy. I get a mild version which just means I might sneeze for 10 times and then I can go on with my life. Spring is too beautiful to be indoors. Everything is a baby or tending a baby or a baby like growth.
April 24th, 2016 6:05 pm
I’m not very allergic. The pollen is true but more of a metaphor, more a report on me (being clouded) than on the actual pollen count. But even with all the obstacles, weight and funkiness, these will be the “good old days” someday and when we’re out, we want back in because the memory is often more alluring than the reality.
April 24th, 2016 6:34 pm
Yes, these are the days. We must enjoy them as they come…the days with or without rain, the planting, the arrival of the birds. There are definitely things that are missed, and sometimes as one goes through those spring routines one reflects back…but time marches on, and we have to go with that flow, but not reflect those beautiful times past.
April 24th, 2016 6:44 pm
I absolutely adore your garden recollection..! 🙂
April 24th, 2016 8:38 pm
“Now they mark the cadence
and the transcendence of time”–I love these lines and the way that the repetition of your title words create a cadence of their own throughout the poem.
April 24th, 2016 9:23 pm
the cadence and the transcendence of time…very well expressed!
April 25th, 2016 12:53 am
What a glorious read walking round your garden.
April 25th, 2016 10:12 am
This is lovely. I like the way you connect your Spring to your the past and the present. Love the last stanza.
April 25th, 2016 11:13 am
It is good to appreciate the things that never change when so much else does.
April 25th, 2016 12:28 pm
I like this so much. The last two verses particularly speak to me.
April 25th, 2016 6:00 pm
I wish I’d written this.
April 26th, 2016 11:15 am
Such a lovely poem–with a bit of post-nasal drip whimsy…ahh, spring! (sniff)
April 26th, 2016 12:07 pm
Love that “flirty first swallowtail,” especially. 🙂
April 27th, 2016 4:27 am
Hard work and sweet continuity.
April 27th, 2016 6:50 pm
[…] 1. I’ve crossed the bridge of song from the good old days to the older ones HERE. […]
April 28th, 2016 12:23 am
We work through the days and hope we plant enough memories to hold us through each tomorrow. Yes, I love your final stanza also. Great work!