Poetry Sunday: In Perpetual Spring by Amy Gerstler

In my search for a poem to feature this week, I came across this one by a poet I'd never heard of. I still know very little about her but I know I like her poem, especially this last section:

Even the prick of the thistle,   

queen of the weeds, revives   

your secret belief

in perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.

I find that I do indeed believe in perpetual spring, hopeless optimist that I am, and that I have faith that for every hurt there is a leaf to cure it. Enjoy the poem and tell me what you think.

In Perpetual Spring

by Amy Gerstler

Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of

spiky voodoo lilies   

and trip over the roots   

of a sweet gum tree,   

in search of medieval   

plants whose leaves,   

when they drop off   

turn into birds

if they fall on land,

and colored carp if they   

plop into water.

 

Suddenly the archetypal   

human desire for peace   

with every other species   

wells up in you. The lion   

and the lamb cuddling up.

The snake and the snail, kissing.

Even the prick of the thistle,   

queen of the weeds, revives   

your secret belief

in perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.