Dancing Buttercups

Image

Artist credit: Annelea

The world is beginning to dream again and so are we. I see strength returning to Tracy’s spirit, and it does my heart good. She was able to use her walker to walk to the sink, sit down and wash up her face and arms in the sink today. A milestone!

She said it felt so good. She changed into a personal nightgown and felt like a whole new person.

We are hoping to get her into in patient rehab on Monday but it is pending insurance approval. You know how it is…

It is not good enough that doctors, nurses, and Physical and Occupational therapists recommend it. No, the insurance company, not her personal medical team, must approve it first. Please pray with us she can go.

On another note, my dear friend Annelea has launched her website. Trust me, you want to click that hyperlink and check it out; she is a gifted artist.

I am honored to continue a collaborative process Annelea and I began several years ago. I write—she paints.

This poem is the second in our most recent collaboration. I am writing poetry for the paintings on her website.

After this year of pandemic and quarantine and staying home, I am ready for dancing buttercups on a far away shoreline. I hope you are swept away with joy and hope and dreams of summer.

Buttercup Dreams

I slept
in a field
of buttercups

down
by the Cape
where salty air

and shipwrecks
drift together
near the rocks

buttercups
with orange-tip
butterflies nestled

finally free
once again
to dream

How
shall I
bear the joy

of living again
in this glorious
invincible summer?

—a draft of Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

NaPoWriMo 2016 Day Eight

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent. –Victor Hugo

NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month), my nemesis, my old friend, has whisked me away to places and spaces unknown yet again. The prompt was supposedly a “simple” one: write a poem about a flower. Having spent yesterday afternoon at the gorgeous Oklahoma City Botanical Gardens, this should have been an easy task. Lucky enough to have my sidekick photographer with me, I had stunning photos for inspiration. My friend Agi graciously printed my favorite, and I asked Little Wonder to paint it for me as I wrote my poem. I thought I would simply throw down a lil red flower ditty as the boy painted.

When the singing began from the back terrace, I was at once both enthralled and enchanted. His joy for living emanates from the core of his being. In that moment, listening to him sing as he painted his red flower, I felt honored to be in the presence of such pure joy.

Thus my simple little red flower poem became an ode to my wise and wonderful Little Wonder. I wouldn’t trade a minute with him for he is slowly teaching me the art of living.  the red flower

a little painter
squints in the sunlight
scrunching up his brow
in concentration
intentionally
choosing brilliant gold,
vibrant red and green–
a kaleidoscope
of tapestried hues.
a lone red flower
rising stark but strong
centers everything.
how does he know the
vibrant story of
red hot life stands strong
as the universe
whirls wildly by?
a tiny prince of
infinite wisdom:
my darling sings and
peace settles.
 (Photo Credit: Tracy Kaye Photography)