As Spring Arrives: Poem & Process
A reflection on the change of the seasons
Poem & Process is an ongoing series: one poem, and reflections on writing it.
As Spring Arrives
In these dying days of Winter
grief blossoms in the growing hours of light
marking the end of these quieter times:
life has been simpler – and slower – in the sun’s long shadow.
The world is starting to spin up to some speed –
or perhaps it is the quickening of my own heart
Spring calling it to a faster rhythm
demanding that I shed the heavy coat I have grown these past months.
I notice resistance: a reluctance to rush too swiftly
part of me longing for the comforting closeness of cold
dreading the inevitable intensity of heat
yet relishing the thought of it nonetheless.
I know that my body will warm, and melt
will welcome the unhurried, unfolding smile of Summer
that my eyes will become grateful for the longer days
that I, with joy, will brighten into.
We’re a month on from Imbolc, and it feels to me here in the UK like Spring has really started. The days are longer and much sunnier, and - though there is still a wintery bite to the air - it’s undeniably warmer.
After facilitating poetry workshops in a school, I was heading home from the train station. I was listening to something expansive on my headphones, noticing how rich the sunset was that evening: a molten orange-gold spilling over everything. There was a definite chill in the air, so when this poem arrived in my head and asked to be written on my phone, my fingers protested a little at being removed from their gloves.
In the glowing tones of the evening’s sunlight, grief had stirred in me as I realised that Winter really is ending. It felt like a slightly odd emotion in that moment: many people long for the end of Winter and the arrival of warmer, sunnier months. I do, too - and I also felt a real sense of mourning the passing of these colder times.
This feeling - plus the combination of facilitating creativity all day and a cinematic soundtrack - created the conditions for a poem to happen, and I rapidly typed it out as I walked home. I tried not to bump into anyone - largely successfully.
I shared the first draft with my partner, who also connected with that feeling of grief as a season ends. I think this is also personal for me right now, too: the past five months of Autumn and Winter have been slower and quieter, as we settled into our new home with our new baby. I am aware of this incredibly special time coming to a close, with the end of maternity leave on the Summer horizon, and my child growing into ever more independence with each day.
No wonder I have an easy access to grief right now - something that I’m experiencing as a fundamental part of parenting anyway.
I thought this was just a nice quick reflective poem for myself, then realised I wanted to share it here whilst the seasons are still in that in-between moment. So here’s an edited version - and I include the 10-minute speedy version below too.
I wonder if anyone else feels this sense of wanting to remain in the cosier vibes of Winter, and resists the energetic activity of Spring?
