BY JOANNA C. VALENTE
As we’re in the middle of spring, with all the flowers in bloom in New York City, I often wake to the sounds of birds and find myself generally in awe at what the world is capable of. Spring here is an experience I grow fonder of as I get older (I’m still a summer child ); I used to feel anxious for it to be over so I could just get to summer and enjoy the beach.
Now as I’m pushing myself to enjoy and learn more about this season, I thought to round up three poems whose images and overall aesthetic remind me of the season.
Peach Delphine - “Cohabitation, Moss”
“Sifting wave, the body without restraint, breathing shade, catbird flipping leaves, the form of tradition is not what made, the making cannot be claimed, of self, erosion by water and wind, polishing the shell, bone haunted, word contains the breath, windbound, unable to flee”
Lee Potts - “‘It may not have been the rain at all.’”
“Rain interrogates the shape of everything it falls on and finds the sword hidden in every monument’s history. But once it ends there’s always a catastrophic forgetting.”
Jack B. Bedell - “Communal”
“ Swarms of bees bring the goods from one plant
to the next, and the lot grow healthy and prosper.
Two plants, a small garden, and enough bees
to outlast our dog's urge to snap them
out of the air as they fly from bloom to bloom.”