Stay

A poem about pollen.

Every spring in North Carolina, we have what is referred to as “The Pollening” in which a thick coat of pollen from pine trees, such as the Loblolly, layers literally everything. This is such a major “weather” event for us, that tonight at an open mic I was not surprised that another poet and I both performed poems about pollen. We could, quite frankly, have a whole poetry night centered around pollen poems here. And maybe someday we'll do that. For now, I hope you enjoy mine.

Photo of the pollen that seeps into everything.

Stay

Here in the City of Oaks
(and pines)
come spring, pollen
covers everything 
in a yawn of yellow,
billows of visible exhales, 
the woods waking up.

Thick dust lines roads, cars, 
pants, hands,
it gets in our eyes, mouths,
we blink sacred powder
and talk slower,
we become pollinators,
doing the work
of bees, wind 
spreading life
unknowingly.

Our crucial bodies 
shake off the secret 
ingredient that breeds 
towering beacons 
who point toward 
outer space, or some
infinite existence,
and you thought you
were insignificant
but I, 
and even trees, 
need you.

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Thanks for taking a moment to read and I hope whatever signs of spring you're seeing around you brings a little joy or inspiration.