Tag Archives: poems celebrating spring

Coming out of torpor

Last Friday night my son dug two of the last three holes needed to set our remaining fruit tree starts.  We didn’t manage to plant any of them that night because he and my daughter needed to gather their things together for the early start they faced the next morning.  They were to travel to Moab to take tests for advancement in their Shorinji Kempo classes, and I had to get them to the local Chevron at 7:30 a.m. sharp so they could carpool with the rest of their group.

That morning, after dealing with the “gotcha” moment of my key breaking off in the car’s ignition at the Chevron, I arrived home to attend to the trees.  Planting trees by yourself is a bit tricky, especially with the hammerhead winds we had Saturday (again!) but not impossible.  The kids wouldn’t be back till mid-afternoon.  I didn’t want to make the trees wait another minute for return to more natural circumstances, especially since the stock was bare root. Continue reading Coming out of torpor

Landscape, with Livestock

(On “Pond at Thompson’s Station” by J. Kirk Richards)

by Tyler Chadwick

The sun has been misplaced.
Or, if you’d like to get more
Biblical, it’s returned

to the dove’s abyss—or
was that Milton? I can’t be sure
as I dance so near the beginning

with words so supple they
bend into themselves until
only the landscape remains:

the field flushed white, hills
seduced into bed
by cloud vapor so thin it will

barely last past the break of day,
the trees an erratic screen
against the sudden emptiness.

Consumed in association,
their teeth tight to the grass,
the livestock nearest the water’s

point of clarity absorb this light
in slight movements of  jaw and
tongue, slowing the arc of day
as it reaches to nest
in the foreground
of this slowly digested vale.


Find more Tyler here.


by William Blake

Sound the flute!
Now it’s mute!
Bird’s delight,
Day and night,
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily merrily, to welcome in the year.

Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise;
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.

Little lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.


Submitted by Eric Jepson.


 by P. G. Karamesines

Like swallows, each one shapes its path
On the other’s—two horses, maybe yearlings,
So alike in color and conformation
My eye exchanges them as they run.
It’s what they are together my eye
Singles out: twins of movement.
They stop and box the air between them,
Swinging skulls like stiff-armed fists.
They roll apes’ lips to shake formidable
Teeth and lift themselves one above
The other.  Pheasants fly from the strike
Of their hooves.  When these two rest,
They stand brown cheek on brown cheek 
Following sparks of interest
As through a single pair of eyes.
Then one animal shifts weight and they sheer
Apart, jogging to another ring to dance out
Their joke. Is it love or wit, the orchard’s
Flower fragrance wreathed ‘round their heads,
The cooling evening lights? They are
Supple with each other and have quick parts.
The sinew of their laughter runs down the long grass.

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day!*

In honor of spring’s arrival, Wilderness Interface Zone will over the next two weeks post poems celebrating the arrival of “the boyhood of the year” (Tennyson). 

If you have a favorite poem about spring or one in which spring figures prominently or have written one that fits WIZ’s themes and content, e-mail it to us at wilderness@motleyvision.org.  Please review our submissions guide before submitting. 

*From “A Prayer in Spring” by Robert Frost