Forsythias

Alone in the woods, as many good days
begin, I greet the newborn Spring.
I’m flanked by tonal pinks with white flowers
overhead and underfoot, bloomed anew.

The buttery sunrise softens upward,
melting through the golden forsythias—
baking a salubrious feast for me
as I pause in this fresh, forest kitchen.

Descending warmth rolls down my tired bones,
and I drift into youthful reverie—
a boy standing before Mother’s oven,
dreaming of morning blueberry muffins.

Myriad miles from her and years from then,
I am at peace and at home in these hills.
Life’s brown to green, to gold, to brown again
sows seasonal sentimentality.

I tarry in the present’s joie de vivre
and linger longer in the petaled trees.

Jess Levens is a poet and photographer who lives with his wife, sons and dogs in New England, where he draws inspiration from the region’s landscapes and history. His poetry has been published in The Dillydoun Review and Prometheus Dreaming. Jess is a Marine Corps veteran and Northeastern University alum. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram @levensworks.