The Stirring

I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here-
love like moisture in humid air, about to rain down.

Whispering through the rustling leaves, tickling my ear,
anticipation comes long before thunder sounds.
I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here.

As vividly felt as transporting scent-
wet dirt, thirsty worms, Grandpa’s Carolina nights.

Mild, oppressive warmth,
air clinging to my skin, like a you-belong-with-me reciprocal.

I am in the middle of what’s already begun!
Waiting for culmination to fall, pour over,

replace glow with perfect chill, lightning-like flash,
to jolt the smothering mist back and adequately drench

me! Coat me, cloak me in enlivening cold!
Come quickly! Come- You are already here.

10 thoughts on “The Stirring

  1. At first glance, there is nothing here I can relate to; but then I realize, I am trying to lead the feeling along, down a corridor of my choosing… How was that working for me? It was not… So I settled back in, and allowed (hoped) it to come to me, of its own volition…

    Here is what I came away with, on the fly… While I cannot recall, in total, I can assure, there was a Christmas morning in my youth, maybe two or three, where, I came into the living room, and witnessed the miracles (well, that they had transpired), and I ran the gamut, all around the room, of the objects I knew in my heart of hearts, were mine… and even after I had successfully made it through the maze, I found, I was still enthralled by the same level of anticipation, as when my feet hit the floor.

    Only when my little brother entered the room and said something like, “I think that is mine,” did I snap back into reality, when it was time to get dressed and go to some family function, when all I wanted to do was play with…

    I can’t remember.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I like that story of how you related to the words. Thanks for really working with the text and not just breezing by it.

      In my case, the poem was written when I needed to write a poem and it was about to thunderstorm outside. LOL. So I sort of “listened” to that scenario and tried to see what poetry was there waiting to be drawn out. I did of course draw from personal experience in my lens for seeing and in exactly how the poem played out, but I was rolling with what metaphor I could draw from what was physically happening in the scene.

      In my next words I don’t mean to say that a poem can mean whatever on earth anyone decides to think it means after any poor reading- but I love how much there is in poetry to relate to and remember and think about, and in how many different ways, so it was cool to hear how you connected to the emotion present in the poem.

      I had a similar reaction hearing you read “Trust” on SpeakEasy. Your and Nyla’s reactions were completely on point for what I was going for, and yet it was interesting hearing my words- The words of a young female who grew up in X, Y, Z location and circumstances, representing and being said in the voice of someone very different, and who says the exact same words with different intonation. That’s a cool aspect of poetry.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks for following. I love this. I remember the stirring I got when I was to check my acceptance into college.
    I had to call an uncle to check it up for me. I really was anxious.
    When it was confirmed, the scream I gave frightened my mum. But it was great joy for her. I wished my dad was around to share that joy..
    It was something to remember indeed.
    Thanks for this.
    Wish to develop my poetic skills to this level some day..
    Thanks again.


    • Haha, I can relate to that anxious stirring where you both do and don’t want to look at something! What a joyous moment. Congrats on your college acceptance! I’m so glad you could connect to the poem.
      Best wishes with your writing! I’ll be checking your blog out further soon!


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