Poem 9 (National Poetry Month): Inspiration Comes After the Storm

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

A walk after rain is often enlightening. A walk after rain in the spring never fails to bring to mind e.e. cummings. A walk after rain while thinking of e.e. cummings will either bring inspiration…or make you feel like a dullard. I’ve had it both ways, but I still like to try.

April 9, 2020

Inspiration After the Storm

By Michelle Garren Flye

Shhh.

This is my favorite part.

After the storm,

When the world comes back to life.

Listen.

The birds sing their

Survivor song.

I walk quiet

Through the mud-

Luscious world

Cummings warned me about.

Careful. Feel it?

Desire.

For the words

For the waiting photo

For inspiration—

But all I see is the mess after the storm.

Leaves and branches

Cast aside,

Petals litter

Wet pavement.

My dog stops to watch as a bird bathes in a puddle—

But I didn’t bring the right lens.

We walk on…Oh,

Where is my balloon man?

But wait.

Listen.

Shhh.

I hear him now.

Or maybe it’s a frog.

No, look.

That leaf is new.

That rose.

That puddle with petals

Of the dogwood tree

Drowned inside.

Oh yes.

This is my favorite part.

Inspiration always comes after the storm.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem: Now That I Am In Mid-Fall

V6+6YpILTtGOb5sXAc904g

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Now That I Am In Mid-Fall

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

Fall has been glorious to date.

Full of lovely color and warm days.

Breezy enough to invigorate,

With sun highlighting forest byways.

 

Now that I am in mid-Fall—it seems corny—

But I might like it better than Summer.

Summer was too hot, too bright, too stormy.

Full of buggy, muggy days without number.

 

But oh, yes, there were good times, too.

Days by the pool, lazing out in the heat,

Then slipping into the water just to cool.

Laughter, picnics, and flowers by my feet.

 

Yes, Summer could make you a believer,

But now that I am in mid-Fall, I think

I enjoy the mellow more than the fever—

And on the vine, I still see roses growing.

 

Some say Spring is best with days warming—

Greening, blooming bursts in urban sprawl.

But Spring is needy, showy, always wanting.

I see that clearly now that I am in mid-Fall.

 

Now that I am in mid-Fall with dry, brown leaves

Crunch, crunch, crunching beneath my feet,

Like worn out, torn up, decaying past years,

And I laugh at the roses blooming as a treat.

 

I wonder if I might not like Winter even better?

When I’ve swept the leaves away and all is clear,

Fire at the hearth, chores done, no longer a quester—

Now that I am in mid-Fall, and Winter draws near.

 

It might not be too bad, I think, sipping cocoa,

Blanketed in Love, settled in a rocking chair.

Maybe roses bloom in Winter sometimes, too?

Now that I am in mid-Fall—falling toward Winter.

ArIbuvFbSvGEq0oJAMbv4Q

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

National Poetry Month: Poem 17

Poem 17

Old Photos

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

Looking through old photographs

Can take a melancholy turn.

Where did the days of your youth go?

The years fly by, sometimes so fast

They leave my edges old and worn.

I wish I could hit the brakes to slow

The speed of the days as they pass.

To grab one more minute, to earn

Another moment in that ethereal glow.