“The Edge of Bloom”

Rookery at John Street Wikimedia Commons 2
The Edge of Bloom

Almost, at this moment:
no matter how feeble the light
upon the trees,
despite this night benumbed,
there are buds that tiptoe
at the pinnacle of jagged cliffs,
at the edge
of bloom —

this miracle,
this dance of beauty
cannot be halted,
cannot be restrained.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Image by Wikimedia Commons

24 thoughts on ““The Edge of Bloom”

  1. Stumped at first at the choice of words – read it several times – closed my eyes and – saw it all fall in place – fantastic!

    Interesting how you employed extraordinary words to convey the immutable march of Nature – no matter the harsh environs.

    Loved it Dee,
    Eric 🙂

  2. This is my favorite from you so far, though I have not yet read everything.
    Spring is later up here, but each one impresses me that this one could be the last one for this world, the last before the renewing of all things. It is a melancholy thought, despite remembering that the trees of the field will clap their hands when it is time.
    I am going to work on a verse by verse commentary/discussion of Galatians on Calebs Eye II if you are interested or know anyone who might be. It is barely begun at this point.

    • Thank you, Carroll. I’m delighted you found this poem your “favorite” among my other poem posts. Yes, it is still very cold here in the Northeast, too, but what has struck me for the past several days is that the skeletons of the trees have grown plumper, much like putting on flesh and sinew. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and sentiments about Spring and being mindful of the Second Coming, the renewing of all things. And you quote one of the last verses of my favorite chapter in the Bible. What a beautiful imagery — the trees of the field clapping their hands.

      Yes, I would be interested in your verse by verse commentary/discussion of Galatians. Thank you for letting me know, and I will let others know also.

  3. Well done. The very first line makes us hold our breath – and the beauty is the truth of the work. I use the wrod “truth,” very little because we use it as a sort of incantation anymore, an obscurity – when it is not. Truth is a reality, a belief – we worship, “the truth,” what we believe what holds or solidifies our faith. Yet, here you take that same “truth,” and tetter it on an edge, a small wind will blow and rock it. No matter, simply because the delicate bloom is stronger than we believe – no matter the cold, the fading sun it will come. No matter the rage, or the winter, or the hate, the bloom will come and come again – “cannot be halted, cannot be restrained.” A very nice twirl in warm summer nights, soft upon the marble of a long forgotten cathedral – the hope and faith in this work. Again well done.

    • I really enjoyed reading and re-reading your commentary on this poem, Sandra. It is interesting how you equate “Truth” and “Beauty”, and I love your take on the cliff’s edge, and the strength of the delicate blooms. Your words really took my breath away. I especially love the imagery of your last line — the “twirl in warm summer nights, soft upon the marble of a long forgotten cathedral”. Thank you for sharing your deeply poetic thoughts on this piece. Love, Dee

  4. Ir reminded me of Genesis 8:22 …
    “While the earth remains,
    Seedtime and harvest,
    And cold and heat,
    And summer and winter,
    And day and night
    Shall not cease.”
    Thanks for sharing from your gift of seeing, thinking, and writing 🙂

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