President’s note: In true poetic form, BPS member Jennifer Sorensen has given us a poem to contemplate March and the beginning of spring…
Make obvious this time of transition pubescent children growing old. How time shifts beneath our feet and all the while one stammers “I am here.” “I am here.” sometimes even when the room is cloudy, “Goddamit, I’m here!” The wind blows. March talks to the soil. Love letters of forgiveness I’m coming home. Things thaw and freeze, thaw and freeze, grow differently. Poetry, like all art, infuses everything. How we paint, sing, draw, dance, build and touch with words. I like how poetry has no rules. Profoundly, you have no rules. A propulsion to love, spare pine trees leaning to the sun, to what is warm. Savor sanctity. Taste transcendence. I’ve been thinking of the ellipsis . . . Three dots that knit time and space and breath and thought together. Held together in space like planets. Orbit here, my love my March soil. Da da dum Da da dum
