Warrior flower, hardy and fearless,
Thrusting up and out into bitter cold.
You look so delicate, porcelain white
With wisps of green gracing your contours.
You are the reconnaissance mission!
The crocus infantry will follow
You into the spring, as will the legions
Of daffodils, bluebells, tulips and pansies.
You lead the way out from the dark bleak months,
Bringing hope and beauty and joy with you.
Dear little fragile snowdrop, thank you
For being a winter warrior.
Rise up like a phoenix or a well baked souffle.
It’s the start of the week, a magic Monday.
It can be what you want, just open your mind
And your heart and your chakras if you’re so inclined.
Embrace what you’re given to deal with this day,
If life gives you lemons, whip up a sorbet.
Seek out the positives in all situations,
Enjoy the beauty of natures creations.
If someone is vexing then just walk away
Life is too fleeting for such mental affray.
So soar high like an eagle and just perhaps
You’ll have a good day and your souffle won’t collapse.
Daffodil
You are so brill.
Glistening gold,
Your petals bold.
Standing tall
Your trumpets call
‘Spring is here’
And squirrels cheer.
Yellow troops
Mustered in groups,
Dancing wild,
My eyes beguiled.
Glorious.
Victorious.
Giving glee,
Joyous and free.
Spring is springing.
Winter slips into sweet slumber.
Snowdrops peep out
Telling crocuses to follow.
Sparrows flitter
And chitter their morning sonnets.
Badgers emerge
From their hibernation hideouts.
Frogs lay their eggs.
Ewes will soon be swollen with lambs.
Rebirth is here
Creating new and brighter days.
Sat against this rock I am hidden from the world. Invisible and insignificant.
Facing outwards, I hear the ocean caressing the rocks further below me, I see the lit lighthouse standing proud, alone but confident, defiant against the blackness of the unknown ocean stretching ahead of it.
Facing inland I see couples illuminated by candlelight through the restaurant picture windows, laughing, smiling, touching. I don’t know which I’m more envious of, the people exchanging loving looks, or the ocean full of freedom and hypnotic hope.
I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone to look lovingly at me, to be their whole world in that moment and moments more. I am not worthy of another’s love. Even I don’t love myself so how can I expect it from another. No one could find me special, wonderful, their guiding light. I will never be someone’s lighthouse, someone’s restaurant gazer.
I will be the lone rock sitter, the solo sea starer, the self-placed exile. I long to be with someone special, as much as I long to leap into the ocean, to float away from pain. Maybe I should take that leap, find the lighthouse for me.
Why am I so scared of sitting in that window? The remote sea seems less terrifying to me. I have a blackness within, it spreads and dims my vision. It smothers my clarity at times. At times I don’t know if I’ll leap when my dark secret self swirls deep. The sea speaks to me, it says listen to me, follow me, join me, stay with me.
I close my eyes as wind joins waves in beautiful orchestral crescendos.
Inhaling salted air, I breathe life into me.
Today is not a leap day.
Naomi Rettig 